


The Thrill of Happenstance

by Murdocisurproblematicfave



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: AU, Angst, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2018-12-30 02:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murdocisurproblematicfave/pseuds/Murdocisurproblematicfave
Summary: Stuart was in his early twenties, living at home, and running the dodgems stand at his dad's fair in Crawley. He had always been accustomed to his normal, small town life..up until now. At a time in Stuart's life when all he wanted was something more, he meets Murdoc, and Stuart becomes addicted; Addicted to the thrill that Murdoc always seems to bring with him.





	1. Chapter 1

Karts drive by like insects, the constant whirring as their antennas scratched against the electric net above them was like music to his ears. He tuned out to the people around him, doesn't pay attention to his co-workers, or the murmuring walkie-talkie strapped around his waist. The only sounds he can hear are the clacking of working ticket machines as they cut paper into neat little lines that fall into the open hands of smiling children, the high-pitched screams coming from the horror house in the far corner, scary in their own right, like faint ghostly wails from long ago meeting his intently listening ears.

And the _music_.

The old-timey tunes that spread themselves out over it all, as if a blanket of party songs from years gone by lay above them, emanating from rusting speakers placed at each attraction. They electrified the atmosphere with tacky bubblegum pop and swinging 60s anthems, and acted as background music to the entire symphony of tangible sound.

He knew every song in the rotation by now, he'd worked at his dad's fair that long. He enjoyed humming along every so often, watching the dodgems whirl and weave about each other frantically, observing the excitement on the occupant's faces when they crashed and reeled back in their seats. He loved the fair. It was all that he knew, and simultaneously all that he had ever wanted..

..Until now. Stuart had been working at his father's fair since he was sixteen, and as he worked the rides, he'd simultaneously been thinking to no end about how his life had panned out. He remembers first putting on his uniform, pulling on that navy blue shirt and trousers, and pinning on his name badge with such pride, like he had finally fulfilled a dream that had resided in his youthful mind for far too long.

He remembers the look his dad gave him when he entered the living room wearing the outfit, as if the man was practically bursting with pride for his teenage son. "Come 'ere Stu, let me get a photo of you", he had said as he pulled out his camera phone and pointed the lens at Stuart, who stood awkwardly smiling near the living room door with his arms pinned to his sides, his mom chuckling at the endearing sight of him from the sofa.

Despite it still being a rush for Stuart, as a newly fledged adult now nearing the intimidating age of twenty two, it just wasn't enough of a thrill anymore. _Twenty two_. The age seemed to loom above him as he lived out his days, serving as an unwelcome reminder that his youth was too swiftly dripping through the gaps in his fingers, seeping into the void of his memories.

Although the age definitely wasn't old, it wasn't particularly young either, and he hated that he was about to enter into a sort of purgatory between the neon coloured, sweet and salty taste of youth and the grey, bill-paying, weary existence of adulthood responsibility. He just wasn't ready for that, not yet. Not when he hadn't experienced half the things he had wanted to during his younger years.

Although, Stuart also knew that he was a walking contradiction. He still lived with his parents, and struggled constantly with the fact that he is nearly always treated like the clueless teenager he once was. He knows it isn't their fault. He still looks young, with his full-cheeks, unruly blue hair and boyish, gangly physique. There was not a hint of 'responsible adult' in the way he appeared, and that combined with the way he still shared a roof with his doting parents made the whole thing feel like he was in some sort of stasis. Not quite growing up, but simultaneously growing up too fast. An entrapping, complicated routine-way of living that he had grown far too accustomed to.

He couldn't help but yearn for a way out, hope that some sort of adventure would hit him square in the face one day when he least expects it, whisking him away from his preplanned monotonous life and into something more; something bigger. He so wanted to explore terrain he had never seen before, travel to places he needed his glasses to see on a map, bask in an alien sense of freedom that he hadn't yet felt.

And yet here he was, in Crawley, watching some kids driving the dodgems. Feeling far too akin to his mother's budgie in the living room, sat dutifully on its perch, trapped behind the cold, looming metal bars of its cage.

"Stuart?"

He flinched back at the sudden sound of a female voice meeting his unsuspecting ears, making him aware of his surroundings, of his place in reality. He hadn't even noticed he was in a trance until it was so abruptly interrupted, and he rubbed at the side of his head, squinting as he felt the beginnings of a throbbing headache. "Stu? Have you been bloody day dreaming again? This lot have been going for nearly twenty minutes!" She continued, when she didn't get an immediate answer from her coworker.

Stuart was leaning against a pillar at the edge of the dodgem platform, and he turned to see his coworker Chloe stood glaring angrily at him. She usually worked the ferris wheel, and the fact that she was here must have meant he was lost in his thoughts for far too long. "Are you even listening to me, Stu?" She said as she narrowed her eyes at him. "This set of kids need to get off the dodgems already, there's a mile long queue now cos you were in another one of your sodding trances".

Stuart came to at that point, and with a slack-jawed look on his face, turned quickly to observe the line of seemingly irritated people waiting to go on the ride, its length extending all the way to the fairs entrance. "Oh shit, I...I didn't know it was that busy, Chlo, I-". Chloe raised an eyebrow as Stuart stumbled through his answer. "I'll go tell the tech guy to end this session" Stuart mumbled, turning to quickly head in the direction of the dodgems operator stand.

Stuart suddenly felt a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He reeled and turned to his coworker once again with an innocently quizzical expression on his face. "You're not going anywhere, Stu. I'll do it. You need a break" Chloe told him sincerely. Stuart wasn't expecting this sudden act of kindness, and a small smile was on his lips when he thanked her. Then he made his way down the steps as he held his pounding head, quickly planning to take a walk to get away from it all, if only for fifteen minutes.

It was night time, maybe around 8pm, Stuart guessed. He didn't usually care about the time when he was working, seeing as he knew he would always be on shift until beyond closing time, waiting for his dad to finish up. He reasoned that the day would feel slower anyway, if he wore a watch. It always seemed to feel like forever when he could check the time as often as he wanted, so he just lived at his own pace, made his own time. It was his little way of gaining his own personal sense of freedom.

The black sky above the fair was illuminated by the coloured light that intruded upon an albeit peaceful January night, with striking shards of light and buzzing lasers from the rides. Stuart put his hands in his pockets, protecting them from the nipping cold breeze, and began walking without any particular destination in mind, his breaths surfacing from his nose like smoke when they met the freezing winter air.

He walked past the whack-a-mole stand, and gave the man running it a nod. The man smiled back, as he clutched tightly onto a steaming coffee he held tightly in his hands. It was nice, to feel like he was part of a team. Although he wanted new experiences, Stuart also felt so at home working at his father's fair. Everyone knew him by name, and he reasoned that really, he had it easy, considering he could have ended up a mere dish-washer boy or something of that ilk. When it came down to it, running the dodgems as he did every day didn't feel as burdensome as any usual job would.

But that wasn't the point. Stuart had gotten far too comfortable with being comfortable. Living every day with the same routine imposed on him was fine, but that's all it was; fine. He could happily stay working at the fair for the rest of his twenties, but where would that get him? He'd be the same boy everyone knew him as, until suddenly one day he just wasn't, and what then? Working at the fair every day wasn't a life goal, but it suited him far too well for his liking.

Stuart decided he would take a walk around the perimeter of the fairground, and he strolled casually at a slow pace, his face unintentionally solemn as he was plunged deep within his thoughts. He pulled up the hood on his jacket to keep himself warm, but also to subconsciously function as a way to hide himself for once, be alone in a crowd, if that was at all possible. As he meandered about the fairground, Stuart slowly walked by the sweet shop, his worn nikey trainers scuffing on the wood chip floor as he walked casually by it. He was tempted to buy something, and he found his eyes fixing on a tub of blue and pink candy floss hanging on a line from hooks in the stalls inner roof.

He eyed the candyfloss up for a few seconds, judging whether or not he deserved it. He too often ate rubbish, and Stuart's parents complained to no end about their son's questionable eating habits. It was their fault they raised him at a fairground, Stuart judged, where greasy donuts and cheeseburgers slapped haphazardly between cheap, low quality buns was the norm. Stuart took the candy floss defiantly in his hands and headed towards the lady running the stand to pay.

Julie, the kind woman in her fifties who happened to be a good friend of Stuart's dad, stood behind a row of abundant pots of pick'n'mix. She was a cheerful woman, and Stuart couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight of her holding a paper bag open for a child, who laughed as he slipped the piled sweets into it using a sweet shovel. They were talking, and Stuart didn't want to interrupt, so he stood a step behind in the queue, waiting patiently to be served.

That's when he saw him.

A man, seemingly in his mid to late thirties, however his age was hard to gauge from the angle Stuart was at. The man had raven black, wiry hair that fell into a jagged mop around his striking features. He was wearing entirely black, and seemed to have a pendant of some kind hanging loosely on a chain around his neck, falling foreword as the man leaned into the pick'n'mix stand, recklessly shovelling himself two bags.

The man looked shifty, and his eyes flitted about consciously as he poured the sweets into the rustling bags. He even momentarily made eye contact with Stuart, who was stood at a fairly large distance behind the man as he waited in line. Stuart knew his type. Stealing and pick-pocketing wasn't a rare occurrence at this fair, however, Stuart had never been the one to witness it. He only knew of past criminal happenings through occasional stories passed around his coworkers over lunch, or from his dad's ramblings about his day over dinner.

Stuart had never witnessed it happen first hand, and he didn't really know how he should react. With some initial hesitation, Stuart decided to watch the man closely, and narrowing his eyes,  focused on the man before him, taking in his every move.

When the man had filled the two bags he held to the brim, he looked up to Julie, who was still distracted by the child she was serving, engaging the kid with gentle conversation as she held the bag open for him. Stuart continued to watch, and with every passing moment, his inner suspicion rose to near breaking point. He needed the man to do something, anything to confirm his intuition so he could finally act upon it.

Stuart's heart rate surged as he observed the man slowly tuck the bags into his open jacket, and turn to walk away, his dark eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The man shoved past Stuart as he walked briskly by, and Stuart shouted without even thinking. "Oi!" Stuart hastily vocalised, and immediately in response to his alarmed tone, the man began to run, heading for the brightly lit fair ground exit.

Stuart immediately bolted, dropping the candy floss he held, adrenalin fuelling each of his body's quick movements. He didn't really stop to think this through, but as Stuart chased the man, the idea that the man could be armed momentarily sprang to mind. Dying due to a stabbing over some pick'n'mix wasn't really the way Stuart wanted to go out, and yet he ran anyway, ignoring his irrationality. Although Stuart was substantially skinnier than the bloke, at this point in time, he believed he could take on just about anything; whether that belief was foolish or not to hold was another matter entirely.

Stuart made a good chase, his legs swinging by each other like they did on sports day when he was at school. He had won the 100m race each academic year on the trot, and his body moved naturally, his hood falling down as he ran across the fair ground, breaths short and sharply taken as he gained on the man, who Stuart quickly judged was also startlingly fast.

The man took a sudden left turn when he got to the burger stand, and Stuart panicked for a moment before heading in the same direction. There was a long stretch where Stuart made considerable ground on the other man, who would turn his head every so often to look back with wide eyes at the gangly, blue haired fairground worker running after him. It must have been a humorous sight, the two of them running like they were in some sort of action film through the fairground, and children and their parents alike watched with their mouths agape in shock as they shot by.

Eventually, the man had lead Stuart into the back section of the fairground, where only large bins and food refuse resided. It was a fairly open space, and Stuart hoped with all he had that he could catch up with the man before he left through the nearest exit in the far corner.

Stuart bit down hard on his lip as he urged his muscles to work harder than they ever had before. His legs ached, his chest felt as though it was about to burst with the surge in effort, but he let his adrenaline high do the work for him as he powered on. The man looked back at Stuart with visible panic in his eyes now, as he noticed that the younger man was swiftly gaining on him. Stuart quickly looked up to see he was now within metres of the man, and knew it would be mere seconds before he got to him.

One. Stuart, spluttering and heaving, willed his legs to extend as wide as they possibly could in order to cover the rapidly shortening distance.

Two. He was within grabbing distance now, and Stuart instinctively brought out his arms, aiming to stop the man in his tracks by gripping hard onto his shoulders.

Three. Stuart's eyes widened with sheer panic as the man abruptly halted, his unexpected stop causing Stuart to loose his footing. In a last-ditch effort to avoid a head on collision with the man, Stuart stumbled manically out of the way, his limbs flailing as he fell.

Stuart's hands quickly met the thick dirt of the fairground floor, his reflexes causing him to narrowly avoid falling face first onto the ground. Breathing heavily, Stuart resisted the urge to collapse there and then. He didn't even care about the thieving sod anymore, he just needed to _breathe_. Stuart's hair fell wildly about his flushed face, and the chill of the January air didn't hit him like it did before, seeing as his body now positively radiated with heat, and he swore he was sweating profusely underneath his unkempt work uniform. He took sharp intakes of breath, and his chest burned with every rise and fall.

"Look, mate. This is ridiculous".

The gruff, low voice coming from above him suddenly met Stuart's ears, and Stuart made himself look up to the man it had came from. The man was peering down at Stuart, his eyebrow slightly raised, holding the two bags of sweets in one hand. He was breathing as heavily as Stuart was, but seemed to be more accustomed to running like that than the younger man, seeing as he was still able to form a coherent sentence. He probably thieved often, Stuart quickly judged.

Stuart slowly rose up from the ground and stood on shaking legs, his arms falling to his sides as he locked eyes with the stranger before him. The wind tussled with their hair, and the flashing neon lights of the fairground danced vibrantly upon their features. The man spoke up again, defeatedly holding out the crumpled bags in Stuart's direction. "Just bloody have 'em. I mean, all I was trying to do was impress a bird, that's all-" The man looked down at his feet, almost shyly, before he continued. "I'm skint...and she had a sweet tooth. She's got a _convertible_ mate, I could hardly say I couldn't afford a sodding bag of pick'n'mix".

Stuart's eyes flitted down to the bags, then back to the man. He couldn't quite believe that this was happening. First off, he was in awe of the fact that he had just chased down a thief, and on top of that, Stuart was now struggling to understand how the strange man was just giving the stuff back to him, acting somewhat civil about it. It was almost suspicious how easy this suddenly seemed, and Stuart was rendered speechless, glaring at the man with an obvious air of trepidation.

The man shook the bags as he held them out to Stuart in obvious frustration. "Go on then, have 'em. Before I change my mind" He implored. Stuart looked up to the man, and sighed, scratching his head. He didn't know how, or even why, but Stuart actually felt somewhat sympathetic for the guy. The idea that he was about to confiscate two mere bags of pick'n'mix from a man who was clearly struggling in some way or another just didn't sit well with him. Despite knowing his dad wouldn't approve, Stuart listened to his sympathetic inner voice as he gently refused to take the bags, looking up to the other man with a small, fragile smile on his lips.

"Nah, just keep 'em, it doesn't matter" Stuart told the man in a consoling tone that took himself slightly aback. The stranger raised an eyebrow in surprise as he retracted the sweets, his arms falling to his sides in shock. Clearly the other man didn't quite know what to reply at this random gesture of kindness, and Stuart's eyes fell shyly to the ground as the man looked up at him intently. "You sure about that?", The man quickly asked. "...You're not gonna lose your job over it are you?".

Stuart shook his head. "It'd be pretty hard to get fired, my dad owns the place", He chuckled before he continued. "Honestly, it's fine. Just don't come back and you won't get into trouble". A big toothy grin was on the other man's lips when Stuart looked up at him. "Thanks, mate" he finally said, before turning and jogging hastily towards the fairground exit.

Stuart watched the man leave. It was hard not to contemplate over and over what he had just done. He looked around him, checking that no one saw him let the man go. It would have looked questionable at best, for people to witness him chase down this robber like his life depended on it and then just let him go, but thankfully, the fairground buzz had resumed, and the people quickly went back to being happily distracted by it all.

Stuart adjusted his rumpled shirt and dusted the dirt from his hands before walking back in the direction of the dodgems. He was in a strange mood, and didn't feel quite up for running the stand for the rest of the night, however many hours that may be. But despite his distracted thoughts, Stuart willed himself to go back there and finish up, the whole time his mind was hopelessly occupied by the image of that dark, straight-talking stranger. When he went home that night and got into his bed, Stuart replayed and replayed their meeting in his head, somewhat frustrated that he couldn't relive the momentary thrill that the man had brought with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Stuart woke up slowly, yawning quietly as he stretched beneath the bed covers. He had a talent for sleeping in, and on any days off that he squandered from his father, he could happily sleep until the late afternoon, laying idly in his bed throughout the evening. When he would eventually get up and out of bed, it was only to have his dinner, and he had grown very good at zoning out when his parents would make passing comments about his poor sleeping habits.

On this particular day, Stuart arose calmly, finding it excruciatingly hard to unveil the covers from his person seeing as his room was chilled by the cold winter air that froze over the edges of his bedroom windows. Eventually, he poked his head out, his blue hair jutting out in every direction as he slowly eased himself out of bed, his arms emerging next and falling on top of the bed covers. With his hands, Stuart rubbed sleepily at his eyes and then blinked at his illuminated digital alarm clock upon his bedside table.

His heart surged in shock when he saw that he was late for work, and he internally kicked himself for forgetting to set his alarm like he usually did. He pulled back the bed covers completely and hastily got out of bed. His work uniform lay crumpled on his bedroom floor, and Stuart grabbed the T-shirt, pulling it on over his head before then putting on his trousers. There was no time for styling his hair, so Stuart ran his finger tips through it quickly, trying his best to flatten the various unruly strands while he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

As he spat into the sink, Stuart heard his dad calling him from downstairs. His dad usually gave him a lift down to the fair, and he and his father would set up in the early hours of the morning. 'I'm coming!' Stuart shouted back loudly as he ran out of the bathroom, grabbing his jacket from the back of his desk chair as he headed to the door of his bedroom. After Stuart had hurried downstairs and out of the front door, he sleepily ignored the comments his dad made about his lateness as he got into the passenger seat, and the car roared as they set off quickly down the road.

When they got there, Stuart helped his dad set up and before he knew it, or was even fully awake, people were arriving and he was loading hoards upon hoards of fairgoers into sessions on the dodgems as per usual. It looked as though it was going to be a fairly tedious shift, and when it was verging on midday, Stuart was nearing breaking point.

It was a Saturday, and these days were always the busiest. Stuart virtually loathed the bustle, the stress of tending to people when really all he wanted to do was dissociate into himself and day dream for hours. Although, Stuart kept a smile on his face when greeting fair-goers, as the facade needed for decent customer service came naturally to him now.

He finished loading in a set of people, and went back to man the queue while the dodgems operator turned everything on. The same old music blared and kids squealed happily as they buzzed around in the karts. Stuart placed down the barrier and stood at the front of the queue to watch absent-mindedly, as was the routine. Something was off today, and Stuart judged that being raked from his slumber to live out the same old day at work was most likely the cause. It all just felt so monotonous, like slowly his days were blending into one continuous shift. Maybe he needed time off, Stuart suddenly thought, making a mental note to ask his dad later about it.

The music stopped and the kids got out of the dodgems, making their way across the platform to the exit at the far side, opposite the entrance. They laughed and talked as they went, and Stuart knew that was his cue to get ready to start letting the people waiting in the queue into the now empty stand, and begin loading them into the vacant dodgems. However, first he had to check tickets, seeing as fairgoers needed two tickets per person to have a session on the popular attraction. Stuart tried his best to conceal a sigh as he opened the barrier and looked to the mother and child at the front of the line before him.

"Hello, can I help you?" Stuart asked, his smile feeling almost farcical with the effort it took to hold it on his lips. The child held out four tickets in his hands, and Stuart smiled as he took them from him, gesturing for the two of them to step onto the dodgems platform. Just before they did, the child sneezed, snot dribbling down from his nose as he snorted and tried his best to wipe himself. His mother tutted as she reached into her pockets to try and find a tissue, but when her search came back fruitless, she looked to Stuart. "You haven't by any chance got a tissue on you?" She asked him earnestly.

Stuart reached into his jean pockets quickly, and his fingertips suddenly met a hanky that had resided in his left jean pocket for far too long. It was never used, and Stuart quickly remembered it had been given to him by his grandmother at their last family christmas party, because the antiquated woman had insisted that every man should carry a hanky with them, no matter the circumstances. Stuart had laughed as he stuffed it into his jean pocket, and now, he was handing the redundant piece of cloth to the small boy.

When the child had blown his nose and wiped himself, he held the hanky up to Stuart, as if to give it back. Stuart itched his arm awkwardly as he responded to the gesture. "Erm...keep it" He said, trying his best to refuse nicely. The mother thanked Stuart and and they both stepped onto the dodgems platform. A tedious shift indeed, Stuart thought as he turned to address the next customer.

"Hello, can I help-", Stuart words cut off instantly as his eyes locked onto the man stood before him. He recognised those mismatched eyes, the dark mop of hair that fell down to conceal the entirety of his forehead, the green tint of his skin; the man wasn't a sight you could easily forget. Stuart gasped, almost comically, his eyes widening as he remembered that this was the man he had chased down the night before, now stood before him, holding out four tickets in his hand with a knowing smirk across his face.

The man chuckled. "Nice to see you too" He voiced with a lingering grin, his strangely sharp, pointy teeth on full show. Stuart tried his best to contain his shock and his face suddenly hardened at the man's overt smugness. "I told you not to come back" Stuart asserted, clenching his jaw slightly as he looked momentarily around him with a sudden wave of paranoia. Stuart's father had found out about the whole escapade by overhearing the casual natter of various stall workers on his break that night, and if he saw that Stuart had allowed the thief onto the dodgems and not alerted someone straight away, Stuart judged that his dad would probably have a few irate words to say, at the very least.

The man smiled widely at this, playing with the lines of tickets in his hands as he flippantly responded. "Well... I did. Now, are you gonna let me have a go on the dodgems or not, mate? I bought tickets especially" He said, trying to pull a farcically victimised expression as he gazed up at Stuart. Stuart couldn't believe the man's nerve. I mean, it takes a lot of guts to steal something, let alone make chase when someone catches you in the act and then turn up at the same place the next day. Stuart couldn't help but feel like his life was getting more and more bizarre with every second that passed, and he struggled to find any kind of responce through his dumfounded thoughts.

When Stuart finally opened his mouth, he wasn't expecting the words that fell out. "I'm not being funny, but my dad will _kill_ me" He said, his voice shaky, and Stuart instantly kicked himself at how childish he had sounded. The smaller man laughed almost instantly at that, in a mocking but genuinely amused tone. "Seriously? Are you scared that your dad is gonna ground you for it or something?", The man asked, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms in a judging manner. "Come on, just one go on 'em. That's like, only five bloody minutes right? Your old man'll never know", The stranger insisted.

Stuart brushed back his hair in annoyance, his gaze flitting momentarily to behind the man before him, and he suddenly saw how annoyed the people in the line were becoming at the unexpected hold up. He just needed the man to get out of his sight, seeing as it seemed the only thing that followed the guy around was trouble. "Alright, alright. Go on. Quick. There's people waiting" Stuart said in a hushed tone as he gestured for the man to step on to the dodgems platform. Honestly, Stuart just wanted the man to leave his vicinity, but when the man still stood before him, unmoving, Stuart furrowed his brows in frustration.

The man leaned back casually on the barrier behind him as he slowly waved the tickets he held in Stuart's face, almost patronisingly, and Stuart looked closely at the amount of tickets he was holding before quickly speaking up. "That's four tickets. You only need two", Stuart suddenly voiced when he realised what the man was trying to point out to him. The man smiled confidently as he responded. "That's cos you're coming on with me".

Stuart's eyes widened and he shook his head at the man's ludicrous request. This all must be some kind of joke, maybe one of his mates had hired someone to get on his nerves, because this was just unbelievable. "You're having a laugh. You must be. This is my job, and i'm not risking losing it so I can go on the dodgems with some randomer" Stuart asserted, increasingly concerned by the lengthening queue.

The man scoffed, leaning foreword from the barriers. "Well, I wouldn't be 'some randomer' if you just asked for my bloody name-", He said before holding out his free hand. "I'm Murdoc, by the way". Stuart begrudgingly took the man's hand as he responded. "Stuart", He said simply, engaging the man with the quickest, most half-hearted handshake imaginable.

Murdoc nodded, and spoke up once more. "Right. So now we know each other, lets go" He implored, tapping Stuart on the shoulder as he stepped in front of him onto the edge of the dodgems platform. Stuart rolled his eyes. This couldn't happen, and he wasn't going to risk getting into trouble, not again. He needed to stand his ground. "Honestly, I can't go on there with you Murdoc. Sorry", Stuart voiced, trying his best to avoid showing any possible signs of weakness that the older man could catch onto.

Murdoc's expression hardened, however Stuart was barely looking at him at this point, already turning to hastily take tickets from the next customer. "Suit yourself", the smaller man mumbled under his breath, before walking onto the platform and begrudgingly finding a kart to get into. Stuart served the rest of the customers like a machine. Annoyed parents made the occasional passing comment about how long they had been waiting, but it wasn't anything Stuart wasn't accustomed to. When he served the final customer, Stuart breathed a sigh of relief, and went to quickly check that everyone was sat in the dodgems correctly.

He began walking, and saw that three girls had squeezed themselves into one kart. Stuart politely told them there was a maximum of two people in each dodgem, and the girl in the middle obliged and stepped out of it, albeit with a look of anger on her face as she walked back towards the queue. Stuart checked the next few karts, and everything seemed to be fine. When he walked towards the next one, Stuart noticed the mop of black hair poking up from it and thought quickly to avoid it and move on to the following kart. He knew the man would give him a hard time as he always seemed to do, and he just couldn't be bothered with it.

However, just before Stuart got to the next dodgem, a familiar gruff voice emanating from the previous kart met his ears. "Stuart, you coming? Or are you too worried that daddy will be angry at you for it?" He teased loudly.

That was it. Credit where credit was due, Murdoc was certainly good at getting under Stuart's skin. Stuart was already sick of being treated like a child, and that was the final straw. If there was ever a day to prove that he could be spontaneous, act upon a whim like an autonomous adult would, this day would certainly do. Despite not quite being able to comprehend what he was doing, Stuart balled his fists and walked back towards Murdoc's kart. Murdoc grinned widely as Stuart got in beside him, and the taller man grunted as he quickly sat down on the hard plastic of the dodgem chair.

Murdoc's eyes flitted to take in the sight of the man sat next to him. Stuart looked nothing short of hilarious, with his gangly legs folded as much as they possibly could into the confines of the kart, his entire side pushing up against Murdoc. Murdoc fitted into the dodgem nicely, and a smug little chuckle escaped his lips. "What are you laughin' at?" Stuart asked accusingly, catching on to the other man's amusement. Murdoc looked to the other man with a smile. "Nothing. You just look ridiculous", He stated sarcastically.

Stuart feigned a look of offence before laughing loudly as he wriggled about in the seat. "You can talk, mate. At least i'm not nearing my forties and still going on the sodding dodgems" Stuart teasingly retorted. Murdoc looked at the younger man with utter horror at his unabashed statement. "Oi! I'm only thirty five, I'll have you know", He responded, a lingering smirk on his face.

"Only.." Stuart muttered under his breath, with a small smile. The two men weren't expecting the dodgem session to begin at that point, and when the booming music sounded and the karts started to buzz wildly around them, they both reeled, and Murdoc speedily grabbed hold of the wheel.

Stuart had been on the dodgems many a time before, and yet nothing could have prepared him for how manically the other man drove. Murdoc bit down hard on his lip as he weaved in and out of the crowd of hurtling karts, smug in his expertise, seemingly unaffected by the speed at which they were accelerating across the platform. Murdoc then proceeded to spin the kart around in intermittent circles, laughing maniacally as he did so, like something within him had suddenly been unleashed. Stuart swore under his breath as he held onto the karts walls, feeling his body lifting with the momentum.

Murdoc was so smug in his ability to dodge any possible attack, that when their kart was suddenly bumped into from behind, sending them reeling foreword, the older man practically snarled. Murdoc automatically tightened his grip on the wheel as he looked about him, trying to catch a glimpse of who did it. Stuart quickly pointed to the offending kart as it buzzed by in front of them, and within it were two young boys, barely even eleven.

"I'll make the sods regret the day they were born" Murdoc voiced with nothing but pure hate in his conviction, before he revved the kart foreword towards them. Stuart couldn't help but chuckle at the man's unabashed scornfulness towards the two small children, and quickly braced himself for the eventual impact as they hurtled towards the back of the other kart.

At the last minute, one of the boys turned his head and spotted Murdoc heading towards them at full throttle. He hastily instructed the boy driving to make a sudden left, shouting urgently into the other child's ear over the music tearing from the speakers above them. The boy driving responded by practically wrenching the wheel in that direction, and they both celebrated when Murdoc and Stuart plowed by and completely missed their kart.

"Twats" Murdoc spat under his breath, as he and Stuart found themselves wedged into the corner of the platform. "They're getting away!" Stuart shouted playfully, turning in his seat to look behind them. They needed to reverse, but Stuart quickly noticed when he turned back that Murdoc was struggling to pull off the manoeuvre, cursing every time he turned at an unfit angle. Without thinking, Stuart leaned over and grabbed the wheel from the other man, beginning to try and reverse it himself. Murdoc relented, letting Stuart take charge, albeit with a judgemental look in the other man's direction.

When Stuart reversed the dodgem almost perfectly, Murdoc grunted his approval before grabbing hold of the wheel again. Murdoc's eyes locked with the boy's kart like a missile to its target. "Right. Let's take 'em down" He grumbled, his dark eyes just peaking out below his fringe. With that, they speeded towards the boy's kart, and after a few moments chase, finally bumped into them from behind. Stuart cheered at their success, and when the boys tried to get away, they drove foolishly into the corner of the platform, at which point Murdoc took the opportunity to bump into them over and over until the children were practically seething.

When Murdoc and Stuart eventually relented their attack, Murdoc buzzed the dodgem about the platform with a new lease of life having pulled off his sweet revenge, and the two men, despite most likely being the oldest there, giggled like school boys until the session was over and the dodgems eventually slowed to a stop when the operator powered them down.

As Stuart stepped out of the dodgem, his face aching from smiling so much, a sudden realisation washed over him. He realised that he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed that hard, or for that matter, the last time he'd felt this _happy_. And with that thought, Stuart couldn't help but smile down at Murdoc, who smirked back. A few moments went by before Stuart suddenly came to, realising he probably looked ridiculous, smiling so widely, like a teenager with a crush. He cleared his throat and itched his arm, shyly averting eye contact from the older man, which didn't much help his situation.

Thankfully, at that point Murdoc had gotten out of the kart and his gruff voice abruptly broke the silence between the two men. "So, are you going back to work then?", He asked. Stuart nodded somewhat sadly as he responded. "Yeah.. I kinda have to. The sodding queue's huge again", The younger man sighed out as he turned to observe the extensive line of people waiting. Murdoc brushed back his hair casually, momentarily revealing two thick black eyebrows, before speaking up once more. Stuart noticed that Murdoc's body language was almost coming off as nervous, and in the short time that Stuart had been acquainted with him, Stuart didn't think Murdoc seemed the nervous type.

"Do you wanna.. meet again? Like maybe when you're on your break? I'll be here for a while", Murdoc asked, somewhat eagerly, despite obviously trying to seem casual. Stuart smiled at this. Usually Stuart liked to be alone on his breaks so he could wander around aimlessly, be at one with his thoughts. But for this man, Stuart thought he'd make an exception. Murdoc seemed to be someone Stuart would be interested in getting to know, as he had a growing inkling that the older man had a story behind him.

"Yeah, why not. My break's at three usually" Stuart explained. Murdoc nodded, seemingly relieved. "Alright, Three it is", The older man said in an affirmed tone before turning to walk towards the dodgems exit. Stuart didn't have much time to process what had just happened before the people waiting in the line were complaining, and so he swiftly went back to business.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Stuart felt his energy draining slowly as his shift went on, and when his coworker Chloe came to take over his position at the dodgems stand, signalling the beginning of his break, he honestly couldn't have been happier. Stuart was going to commence his usual aimless wander around the fairground, when after a few steps he suddenly remembered he had agreed to meet Murdoc again during the fifteen minutes. Instead of leaving the stand, Stuart went to casually sit on the metal steps leading up to the dodgems platform, his legs parted widely, and he instinctively pulled down his jacket sleeves to protect his hands from the chill of the winter breeze.

A few minutes passed where Stuart just watched the fairgoers go by with a pensive expression painted across his youthful features. He liked to spot how many faces he recognised, seeing as a lot of the people that came were regulars. Stuart suddenly noticed the same group of chavs that frequented the park, stood outside the sweet stand, chatting among themselves. They never usually came during the day, and Stuart wondered what they were talking about as he stared curiously.

"Earth to Stuart".

Stuart's eyes flitted to the source of the sound, and when he saw Murdoc stood to his side, he felt his nerves kick in again. He still didn't know the man, and despite being usually fairly confident, Murdoc's brashness seemed to expose a more innocent, vulnerable side of himself that he didn't even know existed. Stuart gave a small smile as he looked up at the man from his place on the step, and Murdoc almost immediately sat next to him, which took Stuart slightly aback.

Murdoc pulled out something that he had been holding, and by the strap, he held it out to Stuart. In his hands was a bucket of candy floss, half pink and half blue. He smiled as Stuart slowly took the box with a look of puzzlement on his face, waiting for the older man to elaborate. "I saw you eyeing it up before I went to rob that stand the other night", Murdoc smirked. "Take it as a 'sorry for stealing some pick'n'mix from your dad's fair' gift". Stuart couldn't help but chuckle, and suddenly noticing his hunger, he opened the lid and took a small handful of the blueberry flavoured portion.

Stuart relished in the blissful feeling of the candy floss melting into sugar grains on his tongue, and he silently gestured for Murdoc to have some. Murdoc obliged, and took a large handful for himself, before speaking up with a full mouth. "That girl. The girl I was getting those sweets for-", Murdoc turned away from Stuart and looked out to the fair ground while he continued to speak. "-She was a waste of time anyway, the sod didn't want me after she found out i'm skint. Wouldn't even look in my direction". Stuart stared at the older man with sympathy in his eyes, and was surprised when a knowing grin crept onto Murdoc's face before he continued. "Good thing I stole her plasma screen before she kicked me out. Guess who's going to be watching Eastenders in HD tonight" He remarked snarkily.

Stuart scoffed at the other man. What Murdoc said had reminded him of a subject he had been wanting to broach since their first meeting. "Why do you steal so much? Can't you just get a job?" Stuart asked with furrowed brows. Murdoc laughed at this, but not his usual hearty laugh, one with something deeper behind it, and Stuart couldn't recognise exactly what. "Hah. I do have a job, mate. I play bass in a band. But nowadays, having talent doesn't pay the bills".

Despite the other man's bluntness, Stuart was still confused, and so he immediately pressed further. "Well get a job on the side then. You need to make money somehow, cos going around stealing isn't exactly what normal people do, Murdoc". At this, Murdoc turned away from the other man, and Stuart instantantly regretted the unforgiving nature of his words. After a few moments, Murdoc ruffled his hair and spoke up, his voice noticeably deeper than before, his head slightly lowered, setting his black eyes in an eery shadow that captured Stuart's full attention.

"When I was younger, nearly everything in my house was stolen. It's hard to break a habit just like that, Stuart..You of all people should know" Murdoc voiced. Stuart's face contorted in puzzlement, and he subconsciously leaned a little closer to the other man, his confused gaze fixed upon Murdoc's darkened features. "...Why should I know?" He asked tentatively, the shakiness of his voice surprising even himself. Murdoc's lips immediately curled into a knowing smirk as he answered. "Always being a sappy do-gooder must be a pretty tough habit to break too".

Stuart processed this for a moment, reeling back slightly from the other man. Murdoc laughed at Stuart's reaction, and when the younger man let out a defeated "whatever", clearly not able to form a coherent retort, he laughed even more. At Murdoc's enjoyment, Stuart reflexively crossed his arms. He couldn't let this slide, although it was nothing but joking around, what Murdoc had said struck a nerve within him, most likely because it rang true. "I'm not a 'do-gooder', I'm just not stupid enough to do some of the stuff you do. You don't know me, Murdoc" Stuart stated bluntly.

Murdoc raised an eyebrow at the other man, and Stuart instantly felt that Murdoc had the upper hand in this, just with a simple gesture. It was both admirable and infuriating that the other man could command the atmosphere between the two men in this manner, and Stuart turned away, bracing himself for Murdoc's retort. "If you think that stealing some sweets from a ramdom fair in Crawley is on the list of one of the most stupid things i've ever done, then I don't think you know me either", Murdoc said cooly, his dark eyes fixed onto the other man's profile.

Stuart remained still, his eyes on the floor before him, the blue strands framing his face blowing slightly in the wind. The other man's words had made him tense up slightly, and a few moments of silence prevailed between the two of them before Murdoc spoke up again in a husky, knowing tone. "I can tell you're bored here, Stuart". The younger man immediately looked to Murdoc, his gaze hardened. What Murdoc had said was a statement that resonated with him to his very core, and he was surprised by how it seemed to come from nowhere.

Murdoc smiled knowingly at how he had captured the other man's attention, and took another large handful of candy floss from the tub held in Stuart's hands. Murdoc bit off a part of the candy floss before he continued. "Of course you're bored. Working here every day of the sodding week, living with your parents... It doesn't exactly sound thrilling, mate. My bet is that you legged it after me when I stole that pick'n'mix because it was the most exciting thing to happen to you all week. Am I wrong?".

Stuart opened his mouth, his brows furrowed, preparing to respond to the other man's unwarranted comments. However, no words surfaced from his slightly parted lips, and although what Murdoc had said could be read as an insult to Stuart's less than exciting lifestyle, what rendered the younger man speechless was how aggravatingly true his assumptions were. Murdoc took the younger man's lack of a retort as affirmation, and at this, a smug smile crept onto his face. The older man leaned back casually on the step he was sitting on, taking another bite of candy floss.

"Thought not", Murdoc uttered teasingly through a full mouth as he looked once again to Stuart. The younger man sighed deeply, and placed his hands in his jacket pockets. After a few moments, Stuart answered in a noticeably more contemplative tone, his voice low. "It's just.. I feel like I should be doing stuff, you know? Most of my friends have graduated uni, some of the people I used to go to high school with have kids now, for god's sake-", Stuart sighed, and pulled up the hood of his jacket after feeling the chill breeze brush by his ears. "I like working at the fair, don't get me wrong...I mean, sometimes I just feel like i'm not _going_ anywhere".

When Stuart had finished, Murdoc half-smiled after he had processed what Stuart said, and then huffed as he stood up abruptly. Stuart looked up to Murdoc with silent confusion on his face, and the older man quickly held out a splayed hand to the man below him. "What?" Stuart said in a small voice, his brows furrowed, his eyes flitting to Murdoc's hand. Murdoc grinned as he spoke up. "Well, you said you feel like you aren't going anywhere. Let's go somewhere then".

Murdoc shook his splayed hand, overtly gesturing for Stuart to take it and get up to join him. However, when Stuart didn't grasp it, Murdoc rolled his eyes. "Come on, mate. You look like i'm about to murder you or something. It's just a sodding hand to help you up, and all i'm gonna say is I don't usually do this for just anyone", Murdoc stubbornly voiced. Despite the solemn thoughts that had consumed his mind, Stuart smiled slightly at the other man's snark. Murdoc's straight-talking was admittedly quite endearing to the younger man. It was a type of charm that Stuart wasn't accustomed to, but seemed to draw him in, break down his walls.

Stuart quickly placed his hand in Murdoc's, and Murdoc pulled the taller man to his feet. When Stuart was stood up, he released Murdoc's hand and both men proceeded to step down from the dodgems platform, their shoes clacking across the metal stairs. Once the base of Stuart's trainers met the soft, slightly grassy surface of the fairground floor, he hadn't even had a moment to think before he felt Murdoc's hands swiftly cover his eyes, his vision flashing an empty black. Stuart brought out both his hands in an attempt to stabilise himself at the sudden blindness.

"Murdoc! What are you doing?!", the younger man exclaimed, reflexively trying to look around. Murdoc, who was stood behind Stuart, chuckled as Stuart squirmed in front of him. "I'm taking you somewhere! Just stay still, will you!", He said with a grin on his face, trying his best to keep his hands over Stuart's eyes despite the height difference. Stuart could have pulled Murdoc's hands off of him if he really tried, especially because he was a few centimetres up on the other man. However, he relented, and soon let Murdoc lead him across the fairground, taking tentative steps as the older man gently pushed him from behind.

Stuart suddenly heard Murdoc laughing heartily from behind him. "You should see the way people are looking at us right now, Stuart. It's honestly the funniest thing", Murdoc managed to say through stifled laughter. Stuart huffed as he walked. "I'm not surprised. It probably looks like you're taking me bloody hostage. Is this place far away?" He asked, suddenly concerned about his coworkers catching a glimpse of him and Murdoc like this. "Nope. Not at all", Murdoc confidently answered.

The tone of the older man's voice didn't really give Stuart the affirmation he needed, and he internally rolled his eyes at how Murdoc always seemed to create the most ridiculous situations. "If my dad sees this.." Stuart uttered under his breath as he took a few more tentative steps, his words trailing off as he thought about the numerous ways his father could react, each avenue tainted with overshadowing disappointment.

Murdoc scoffed. "Mate, you need to stop worrying about you're dad. Relax! You're on you're break, surely you can do a bit of dossing around on your break? Otherwise what's the sodding point?!", the older man said, utterly convinced he was making a sound argument. Stuart laughed at the man's words. "That's easy for you to say! Honestly, Murdoc, have you ever had a real job before? Or are you just a full-time child?", Stuart answered, a smug smile on his lips, mentally logging that as one of the most witty things he'd ever said.

Murdoc was stunned for a moment, not quite believing those words had indeed came from the mouth of the man before him. After a beat of silence, Murdoc erupted with playful rage. "Right. You've _really_ had it now", Murdoc stated as he began to lead Stuart across the fairground at a much quicker pace, making Stuart laugh as he tried his best to blindly keep his footing while Murdoc hastily pushed him towards the unknown destination.

What Murdoc didn't know was that Stuart was vaguely aware of where he was heading. They were walking along the main path of the fairground, in what Stuart judged to be roughly north, seeing as the sound of the music from the dodgems seemed to fade in the opposite direction. Stuart just didn't know exactly where he was being taken, but he let Murdoc lead him, and actually the other's man's enthusiasm was admittedly quite fun to him. He'd needed someone like this in his life; someone to break up the days that too often seemed to bleed into one another in their monotony.

After walking a little while, Stuart noticed he could no longer feel Murdoc pushing him, and he breathed a sigh of relief at being able to stand comfortably still. "So.. can I see now, Murdoc?", Stuart asked unsurely. Stuart couldn't see that Murdoc was in fact looking intently over his shoulder at whatever he had lead the younger man to. Murdoc bit his lip, and pushed Stuart foreward a few more small steps, then Stuart nearly reeled when his feet met the risen surface of cold metal stairs. Suddenly, Stuart heard Murdoc's gruff voice coming from behind him. The older man was noticeably closer to him now, and Stuart could hear the concentration in his tone. "You can, in three...two..", He began. "One!" Murdoc exclaimed as he relented his grasp over Stuart's eyes.

Stuart blinked at the sudden influx of light, and tried his best to get his bearings as he scanned the scene before him. Soon enough, he gauged that he was stood at the foot of the ferris wheel, and Stuart gawked at the slowly revolving compartments looming above. However, he didn't even have the time to form a coherent thought before he saw Murdoc running hurriedly towards the ferris wheels loading zone. "Leg it, Stu! Quick!", Murdoc shouted as he made for the compartment that had just automatically opened its rail to expose two worn leather seats as it neared the platform.

"But.." Stuart meekly vocalised as he looked about him. This didn't seem right, and when he saw that they had somehow bypassed the ticket collector, he knew exactly why. Stuart noticed that the woman collecting the tickets for the ferris wheel had her back turned, and by the shock of shining blonde hair that trailed down her back, he instantly recognised her as his friend and coworker, Chloe.

Stuart paused. His hood had fallen down as he had been walking, and the chill wind tussled with his hair. Time seemed to slow down as he watched Murdoc get into the compartment seat. Was he really going to do this? Stuart knew he had to think on his feet, and unfortunately, he also knew that he was extremely indecisive. The compartment that Murdoc had gotten into brushed across the ground as it neared its next ascent, and the older man furrowed his brows in frustration at the sight of Stuart wavering on the ferris wheel platform. Stuart looked to Chloe, then he looked to Murdoc, then back to Chloe. There wasn't time for this, and the increasing dumbstruckness painted onto Murdoc's face at Stuart's hesitation was more than proof of that fact.

Stuart had mere seconds before Murdoc would be forced to pull down the railing and go alone, and Murdoc, trying to desperately maintain inconspicuousness, exasperatingly beckoned for Stuart to come. Stuart swallowed. The compartment was nearing the edge now, and he had to _decide_.

Then he looked at Murdoc once more, and it somehow fell into place. Stuart took a sharp intake of breath and bolted to the compartment. Murdoc held up the railing for the younger man, and when Stuart slid into the seat next to him, with only seconds to spare, Murdoc grinned. The compartment began to rise from the floor and the two men's legs dangled as they slowly ascended.

Stuart looked down at the sight of Chloe and the people queuing on the platform shrinking below him as the compartment revolved, and then he turned to Murdoc, catching sight of the toothy grin he shamelessly wore across his face. Stuart sighed, and gave a small smile back. Somehow, Murdoc kept making the younger man chose between risking losing his job and him, and worse than that, somehow Stuart always chose the latter.

"I honestly didn't think you would do it", Murdoc voiced, pride in his tone. Stuart raised an eyebrow at the other man as he clutched onto the railing in front of him. "Nor did I", He replied, before looking back at the bustling fairground below. Then out of nowhere, Stuart began to smile. Then the smile turned into a laugh, and he kicked his legs slightly, laughing loudly at the thought of what he had just done. Murdoc laughed with him, and Stuart felt his inhibitions once again melting away in the company of the older man.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're face was priceless, though. I mean like top-notch comedy. You were like this", Murdoc said before pulling his face into a gormless, hang-lipped expression, looking from one side to the other in teasingly exaggerated paranoia. At this, Stuart playfully slapped the other man on the shoulder. "Hey! I'm risking my job here, mate. Why do you always make me do the most stupid things?", Stuart retorted, his eyes still shining from the tears of laughter. Murdoc smiled. "Because you can't get enough of me?" Murdoc said confidently, and Stuart instantly rolled his eyes.

"I think i'll have had enough of you when my dad gives me my bloody notice of dismissal", Stuart joked. However, at his own words, Stuart sagged ever so slightly as he broke eye contact with the other man, and looked out at the scenery moving before them. It was nearing four o'clock now, and the wintry late-afternoon darkness loomed in the sky. The clouds were wispy and grey, and the last throws of the suns light peaked through their misty surfaces.

Stuart suddenly noticed that in all the time he had been working at the fair, he had never been on the ferris wheel. He could see further than he thought he would be able to, and the sight of the fairground and Crawley's surrounding scenery stretching out before him was admittedly quite picturesque. "Never thought a place like Crawley could look this nice", Murdoc uttered, and Stuart turned to see that the other man was also admiring the view. Stuart smirked. "It's a nice place. If you think Crawley's bad, try going to Coventry..or Stoke", the younger man snarkily voiced.

"Oi!" Murdoc retorted. "Don't go bad-mouthing Stoke, that's where i'm from", the older man quickly voiced. Because Murdoc looked genuinely offended, Stuart struggled to gather appropriate words to reply with. However, before Stuart could say a word, he looked meekly to Murdoc, who's expression morphed into a knowing smile. "Nah..i'm well aware that Stoke-on-Trent is an almighty shit-hole. But only people from Stoke are allowed to say that", he finally said, and Stuart began to relax.

They were nearing the top now, and Murdoc leaned back on his seat to enjoy the view. The older man then exhaled as he stretched out his arm casually across the back of the seat behind Stuart, and Stuart tried his hardest not to tense up at the feeling of Murdoc's arm being so close to his back. Attempting to maintain a fairly chilled-out demeanour, Stuart hastily broke the silence with a burning question. "So, do you live in Crawley now? How come you are here so often?", the younger man asked. Murdoc half-smiled, and looked to Stuart. "Well, Stuart. I live anywhere and everywhere", He said in a wistful tone.

At this ambiguous answer, Stuart looked back at Murdoc in mild confusion. Murdoc then made sheepish eye contact with Stuart, and reluctantly noticed how puzzled the younger man looked, quietly imploring him to elaborate. Murdoc sighed deeply and turned to stare down at the fairground below, the wind playing with his jet-black hair. "Alright, alright. Truth is, I don't have a house. I live in a Winnebago, and i've parked it in Crawley for a few weeks", He finally answered, somewhat defeatedly.

Stuart's curiosity was sparked by this, and at the sight of the story behind Murdoc unravelling before him, he couldn't help but dig further. "Why Crawley?", He inquired. Murdoc smiled. "Well, I came to Crawley because of the reason I go anywhere; the night life. It's brilliant, seeing so many slags in one place, that is. I've never parallel parked as well as I did when I saw there was a space free between two pubs down the road", He answered matter-of-factly.

"Fair enough", Stuart chuckled, and the younger man then looked out to notice they were now at the ferris wheels peak. However, he turned back to Murdoc when the other man suddenly spoke up again. "Ah. That reminds me. It's about time that I powered the Winnie up again and went somewhere else, Stu". Stuart felt his heart sink. "You're leaving?", He asked. The image of going back to the same old routine without the other man quickly sprang to mind, and it looked unimaginably boring. Murdoc nodded. "Yeah..sorry mate. I think my next stop will be near a beach somewhere-", the older man's words trailed off as he thought for a moment. "Maybe Newquay.. Actually yeah, definitely Newquay. Tomorrow", He affirmed to himself.

The compartment had stopped for a few minutes at the top, presumably to allow the people in it to enjoy the view. However, Stuart's thoughts were a bit rattled after what Murdoc had said, and he furrowed his brows, not sure what to think. Murdoc was still practically a stranger to him, Stuart reminded himself. They had only known each other for a two short days, and although they had been some of the most eventful days he had experienced in a long while, they were still not enough time to excuse Stuart feeling at all disheartened by Murdoc leaving. He mentally pinched himself for getting somewhat attached so quickly.

"Hah. You don't need to look so sad, Stuart". Murdoc's gruff voice cut through the silence, and Stuart suddenly became self-conscious. "I'm not sad. Why would I be sad? I've only known you like two days", Stuart retorted, sounding more standoffish than he had originally intended. Murdoc gave a knowing smile, and Stuart could barely make eye contact with the other man. He knew Murdoc would be smug about this, why wouldn't he be? It was almost embarrassing, and Stuart tried desperately to think of a topic to change the subject of conversation to.

"Well, there's no point bloody moping about it. Just come with me", Murdoc suddenly voiced. Stuart raised an eyebrow. What Murdoc was suggesting was ridiculous, for too many reasons to count. "Mate. Do I have to remind you again that-", Stuart began. However, the other man quickly interrupted him. "That what? That you have a job? That you have a family to go home to and play scrabble with? Come on Stuart. You're in your twenties. You've got to get out more", Murdoc voiced, exasperation in his tone.

Stuart was noticeably frustrated by this. "Murdoc, I have a job, and I know for a fact that my mom and dad will never let me just up and leave for Newquay out of the blue", He explained. Stuart then averted eye contact with Murdoc as he muttered under his breath. "..And actually, scrabble night is on _Tuesdays_ so that isn't the problem here". Murdoc shot Stuart a deadpan look. "Wow", He said sarcastically. "I was being hypothetical about the scrabble thing, but now you've just further proved my point".

Stuart sighed, ignoring Murdoc's snark. On one hand, he knew exactly what Murdoc was getting at. He didn't have much of a life at the moment, and he all too often craved the type of adventure that Murdoc just seemed to spark naturally. However, on the other he was fully aware that going to Newquay with Murdoc spontaneously just couldn't happen, and he had to be clear with the other man. Because Stuart was self-aware enough to know that he was easily roped into things, he tried his best to be blunt. "I'm sorry Murdoc, I just can't", He said, sympathy in his tone.

Murdoc rolled his eyes, and not being one for this type of pointless back and forthing, he gave in, albeit with a disgruntled look. "Alright, alright. Suit yourself", He grumbled. The ferris wheel compartment suddenly began to descend, and Stuart instantly felt bad for making the ride less fun than they had originally planned. He knew he needed to appease Murdoc somehow, and so he spoke up again with a small smile on his face. ".. But we can still stay in contact right? Maybe I could have your number or something?", He proposed gently.

Murdoc agreed, and the two of them swapped numbers after pulling out their phones. As Stuart was typing his number into Murdoc's phone, a text alert had appeared at the top of the screen. With its suddenness, the younger man's eyes were naturally drawn towards it.

_Tonight. 9:00pm. My house. You better be there this time, Murdoc. For your own good. A lot of money is on this one._

- _Hannibal_.

Stuart admittedly was curious about this text, and momentarily remembered Murdoc's earlier allusions to him being involved in..questionable activity. However, Stuart didn't want to come off as snooping, and quickly finished keying in his number while Murdoc was occupied with his phone. He reasoned that perhaps at this stage in their budding friendship, it was best he didn't know exactly what the older man got up to. However interested he may be.

When Stuart had slipped his mobile into his jean pocket once again, he felt a jolt as the compartment reached the bottom of the ferris wheel, its railing opening automatically. Suddenly, Stuart remembered that he had taken way too long off for his break, and he began to panic, hurriedly getting out of the ferris wheel compartment. Murdoc got out after him, noticing the younger man's slightly rushed movements. "Leaving so soon?", He asked calmly as he stood up.

Stuart turned to him with a worried look. "My break's only meant to be fifteen minutes..", He explained, taking a quick glance at his watch. However, Stuart found that a part of him was extremely reluctant to go, considering this would probably be the last time he would be with Murdoc. His feet stayed firmly planted to the floor as Murdoc stood directly in front of him, trying to gather his scattered thoughts into a coherent goodbye.

The ferris wheel whirred above them, and the fairground lights had just began to turn on with the onset of the dark, casting forays of colour upon their faces. "So I guess this is it", Murdoc finally said, breaking the silence. "I mean, it wouldn't have to be, if you just sodding came with me..", Murdoc's words trailed off, and he gave a shrug. "But I get it. I'll give you a call if i'm ever near Crawley again mate", He said, placing his hands in his pockets to shield them from the chill air.

Stuart smiled, exposing the endearing gap in his teeth. "Yeah, that would be nice", He said. Then without thinking, Stuart opened his arms in order to give Murdoc a hug. Murdoc gave an unsure look at first, but haphazardly brought out his arms in order to reciprocate the embrace. When their bodies connected, Murdoc patted Stuart on the back, trying his best to keep it casual, maintain his publicly masculine demeanour. However after a few moments, the older man relaxed into the hug, and before he knew it, Stuart had released him and began turning to go.

Just before he left however, Stuart let out a final "Bye Murdoc", and when the older man waved back, he began to jog where they had came from. Murdoc adjusted his leather jacket after the hug, and took out his phone to read his texts as he left the ferris wheel platform by the steps at the side. Murdoc tried his best to conceal the lingering smile on his face, which soon darkened when he read the most recent text he had received.

Stuart had just ran down the steps of the ferris wheel platform when he felt a hand grip at his shoulder, pulling him back with surprising strength. When Stuart abruptly stopped running and turned to see who it was, he found Chloe staring up at him with a disapproving look. Stuart exhaled with relief at the person holding him back being his close friend, and he spoke up quickly between his sharply taken breaths. "Flippin' heck, Chlo. Can you stop doing that?".

Chloe released her grasp of Stuart's shoulder and crossed her arms. "Honestly, Stuart. What are you playing at?", She asked with an air of annoyance. "You do know you can't just sneak a customer onto the ferris wheel, right?". Stuart shrugged. "I'm sure sneaking one customer isn't that big of a deal though? I mean, really it wasn't even my fault.. He kinda just took me there", Stuart answered, scratching his head.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "He took you there, did he? Who even is that guy? I've seen you two hanging out a lot lately", She inquired. Stuart itched his arm, suddenly feeling awkward. It was hard to explain who Murdoc was, seeing as Stuart still didn't know all that much about the man himself, and on top of that, Stuart found himself extremely reluctant to broach the subject of how the two of them had met. "He's..a friend of mine. We go way back", Stuart lied.

Chloe gave a doubtful look. "Way back to like..when you were ten? That man is clearly in his forties Stuart", She said, not buying into it at all. "A family friend", Stuart blurted, realising that the idea of him and Murdoc meeting when he was any younger could easily come off as creepy. Chloe, having known Stuart for long enough to recognise when he was lying, was still overtly skeptical. Stuart sensed she was not convinced, and so decided it was best if he just left before she could probe him any more.

"Look, Chlo. I've gotta get back to the dodgems before the operator gets angry. We'll talk another time, yeah?", He said, taking a few steps back, readying himself to begin running again. Chloe sighed, replying with a reluctant goodbye before Stuart sped off down the main path of the fairground.

Stuart soon got to the stand, and to his misfortune, the operator had in fact noticed his absence. He called Stuart over to his booth to have a word with him, and Stuart just nodded understandingly throughout, despite not really listening. He felt bad, but he reasoned that as long as his dad didn't find out, everything would be fine. The rest of his shift droned by, and when it was around 8:30pm, he helped his dad pack up and they drove home.

The conversation he and his father had in the car was normal, and when Stuart opened the door to his house, his mom greeted him with a cheery "Alright, Stu?", and asked him, as she always did, how his day was at work. Stuart had answered her monosyllabically, and then zoned out as she explained what she did that day, absent-mindedly fiddling with a monopoly figure that had been lying on the corner of the dinner table. When she had finished, the three of them ate dinner together and then Stuart went up to his room, collapsing onto his bed face first.

Stuart exhaled as he sunk into his bed sheets, feeling a sudden calmness washing over him. His room was silent, and when his foot brushed against a few keys of his melodica that had been left strewn across the corner of his bed, he wriggled his bare foot in order to push it away. Nothing would disturb this moment of quiet- something he didn't get very often these days. And he allowed his eyes to momentarily slip shut, basking in his thoughts.

Stuart thought for a while, about his family, about his job, about Murdoc. When the subject of his musings changed to the older man, Stuart felt himself thinking about the short time he had had with Murdoc, mulling it over in his mind. Somehow, Stuart was always generally dissatisfied with his life, not to the point of despair however, it just felt more like a nagging urge creeping at the back of his mind, calling to be acted upon.

But he found that when he was with Murdoc, this feelings intensity would temporarily subside, and he wasn't exactly sure why. All he knew was that he wanted more of it. Stuart's life was so mundane as of late, and so he decided to imagine what the two of them could have done together in Newquay. He hadn't ever been there, and so in his mind he pictured an isolated yellow beach surrounded by wispy grass poking out of the dunes, rustling in the breeze. The sea played with the shore, and he was walking along it, laughing and joking with Murdoc walking beside him.

Stuart was so happily distracted by this thought, that when he opened his eyes to see that he was laying in his bed, encased in the darkness of his childhood bedroom, something dawned on him. He realised that saying no to Murdoc when he proposed a road trip that day was, without a shred of doubt, a mistake, and one that Stuart knew he would soon regret. He _had_ to go, and Stuart, feeling a sudden need to act upon this thought, pushed back any worries about what his parents would say as he turned so he was laying on his back and pulled out his phone from his jean pocket, scrolling down his contact list until his finger landed upon Murdoc's number.

 

 

 

"I'll get them to you, and when I say that I mean the whole lot-everything that the hospital suppliers have in that sodding warehouse of theirs, for five thousand pounds", Murdoc said, placing his hands flat on the tables surface in his finality. The room was dark, and had a striking, yet slightly eery lack of decoration. There was nothing homely about the place in the slightest, however the five ominous looking men that sat around the circular table in the rooms centre weren't exactly there for a normal gathering.

At Murdoc's words, his brother, Hannibal, who was stood in the doorway in the far corner of the room behind Murdoc, nodded slowly, looking to gauge how the other men sat at the table were reacting. Hannibal was an intimidating sight, nearly the height of the doorway, and donning a shaved head and stubble around his mouth and chin. He was stocky, and really, he didn't have a lot in common with his brother, albeit for their shared gruff Stoke accent. His features were set in darkness, as he stood leaning casually on the door frame, watching the exchange intently.

One of the men sat at the table spoke up after thinking for a few moments about Murdoc's proposition. His voice was startlingly low, and tainted with the twang of a bumbling cockney accent. "There's no denying that five thousand is a decent price, Murdoc. But we can't get that to you all at once. Your brother delivers us the crates, we pay the five thousand in installments", He said, beady eyes set upon Murdoc, who was sat at the head of the table.

Murdoc exhaled, clearly frustrated, and ruffled his wiry hair in annoyance at the man's words. After a few moments, he tried his best to compose himself, and locked eyes with the man. "I'm not being funny mate-", Murdoc finally began, leaning foreword on his chair. "But we need it in cash. Today. There's no questioning it, no 'installments' to be made. We need the cash- and I know you've got it- in hand, now. Or no deal", He said, impatiently tapping his long finger nails across the wooden table top.

The man gave Murdoc a look of indignation, and whispered something into the ear of the man sat beside him. Murdoc placed an elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand, bored with the whole affair as the two men deliberated. "Take as long as you want", Murdoc said sarcastically, before the room once again returned to a tense silence while the two men whispered back and forth.

Murdoc turned to give Hannibal a desperate look, and his brother, cast in an eery silhouette, just slowly crossed his arms. None of this looked good. The men didn't seem too pleased with the conditions of the deal, and Hannibal's body language spoke louder than words, telling Murdoc with just a simple gesture that he would punch the life out of him if they lost out on this one. Murdoc swallowed, but tried to maintain his outwardly calm demeanour as he turned back to face the men sat opposite him at the table, his beady black eyes just visible below his sweeping fringe.

And that's when Murdoc's phone began to ring.

The two men's hushed conversation was rudely interrupted by the shrill sound of ACDC's 'Highway To Hell' ringing out from Murdoc's mobile, vibrating loudly in the pocket of his leather jacket. Murdoc honestly couldn't believe this was happening, and internally slapped himself for not turning off the bloody thing. He shot the men a meek look as he hastily took out his phone, suddenly filled with rage that someone would have the nerve to call him at this kind of time in the first place.

However, when he saw the name 'Stuart' flashing up on the screen, Murdoc's anger suddenly dissipated, and he decided that although Stuart calling him during this meeting was deeply annoying, he just couldn't bring himself to hang up. Murdoc flashed the men an apologetic look, and let out a gruff "One sec, boys", before he picked up the call and pressed the mobile to his ear, turning away from the men in his seat.

"What is it Stu? You better make this bloody quick", Murdoc warned, lowering his voice as he spoke. Despite Murdoc making every effort to keep this call somewhat private, the men at the table and Hannibal were listening to every word, clearly dumbfounded by Murdoc's nerve. Stuart was alarmed by Murdoc's tone, furrowing his brows as he held the phone to his ear, however after a few moments he hesitantly answered the other man. "Well, alright. I mean, I can call later if that's-", Stuart began. Murdoc quickly interrupted him, wanting badly to hurry the conversation along. "Just say it", Murdoc demanded.

Stuart tried his best to be succinct, but he had never been good at coping under pressure. "Erm.. I was just phoning to say that I want to come with you, Murdoc. To Newquay. If you still want me to, that is", Stuart tentatively explained into the phone. Murdoc couldn't help but smile at this, but the smile dissipated when he remembered his circumstances. "Good. I'll be there tomorrow morning.", Murdoc finally said before hanging up, not waiting for Stuart to say goodbye.

When Murdoc was returning his phone to his pocket, Hannibal's deep voice met his ears from behind. "What was that about?", His brother asked, judgment in his tone. Murdoc answered Hannibal almost instantly, knowing full well that he had a knack for fabricating convincing lies on the spot. "It was Stu, one of the suppliers. I'm mates with him you see, and we're meeting tomorrow to get the crates sorted", Murdoc explained before  turning to the men at the table once again with a smug smile on his face. "That's if you're still interested, lads".  

 

  
Stuart gave a look of confusion at the phone cutting off so suddenly, and leant over to place it on his bedside table. That exchange was weird, even for Murdoc's standards, but he soon directed the subject of his thoughts to the fact that he was going to Newquay. Tomorrow. With Murdoc. Even the thought of it made his heart quicken in pace, and he went to sleep that night with a smile on his face, consumed by the warmth of his bed covers, practically waiting for the morning to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo this took me a long time to write. Way too long. But anyway i will be updating this often, but i can't say exactly when because the chapters are way longer than my usual fic length so it will take me longer to write. Just know that it won't be abandoned. Hope you like it so far. I've got the story all mapped out and there is definitely a lot of 2Doc moments to come so look foreward to it cos i know i amm :) follow ny tumblr: Murdocisurproblematicfave for updates


	5. Chapter 5

Stuart woke up extra early that morning, just in case. He thought quickly to pick up his phone from his bedside table in order to check if he had gotten any messages throughout the night. When his inbox was still the same as he last remembered it, he almost closed his phone before a sudden wave of realisation hit him, and he quickly texted Murdoc his address. He didn't know what time Murdoc was going to come round to pick him up, all he knew was it was going to be that morning, and he still had to get ready. Really, Stuart didn't know a whole lot about this trip. He didn't know how long they'd be in Newquay, what they were going to do.. How far Newquay even was from home. All that was certain about it was that he was positively ecstatic.

Stuart rose from his bed covers and sat up in his bed, bringing up his hands to rub away the crusts from his eyes. Then something dawned on him: He still had yet to tell his parents. Stuart froze, his arms abruptly falling to his sides as he thought about all the possible ways he could break the news to them. He had a shift today, of course he did. The question now was what would be the most appropriate way to say he wasn't going to be there.

This train of thought was interrupted when Stuart heard his dad calling him from downstairs. "You up, Stu?", his dad shouted from the bottom of the staircase. It wasn't usual for Stuart's dad to wake him up like this, but after the ever increasing number of instances where Stuart had either been late or just on time to go, his dad had adapted. Stuart cursed as he pulled the bed covers from his person and pried himself out of bed.

Stuart had never been a good lier. Whenever he tried to lie, his half-hearted falsifications always seemed to crumble immediately. The people that knew him were all too aware of this. His friends never bought into his lies, let alone his parents, who knew him better than anyone. How was Stuart going to broach this situation when he had absolutely zero ability to lie was beyond him.

With a bit of preplanning, maybe Stuart could have pulled it off. He could have placed a hot flannel to his forehead for a few minutes, and then called down in the most pained voice he could muster, muttering about how ill he was feeling. He could have pretended he had jury duty, and that the government would have him assassinated if he didn't miss his shift in order to attend. Stuart furrowed his brows at his own train of thought. Now _that_ was getting a bit far fetched, but he internally cursed himself for not giving this whole situation enough thought.

Really, what Stuart was dreading the most was having to be honest about it. Having to go down those steps and tell his parents he was leaving for Newquay with someone they had never even heard of. Someone Stuart had never before mentioned. Stuart placed himself in their shoes, and knew that his brash actions looked questionable at best. However, he flinched when he heard his dad's voice again.

"Stuart! Are you awake?"

Stuart froze in the middle of his bedroom. He was currently pulling on a T-shirt that he had salvaged from his wardrobe, and with the intensity of his thoughts, Stuart stood still with the T-shirt half way on. He spoke before he even knew what he was saying. "Dad, can you come up here please?", He answered meekly, however projecting his voice so his father heard him through the bedroom door.

There was nothing but silence for a few moments, and Stuart held his breath as he braced himself for his dad's reply. However, all Stuart then heard was his dad sigh as he began to slowly ascend the creaking stairs, towards the upper floor of the house. As his father neared his room, Stuart began to panic. Anyone who could think clearly under pressure would at this point be practising what to say; how to put it as nicely as possible. However, Stuart's mind immediately went blank. Like an all-consuming power cut had befallen the electrics of his brain, he couldn't form a single coherent thought, and it instantly frustrated him.

Stuart finished pulling on his T-shirt and went back to his bed, slowly sitting at the edge of it. His breaths were hitched and he pushed back his unruly hair, staring at the floor of his bedroom. Stuart was by no means scared of his dad. He knew that as far as parents went, his father was a very good example, and Stuart had idolized the man for most of his life. But that fact was just why this situation was so scary for him; because Stuart had a deathly fear of letting people down.

Stuart heard the door open before he even had a chance to look to it, and before he knew it, his father was stood in the door way to his room. His father was smaller than him, with a stocky figure and a mostly bald head, albeit for some gingery- brown stubble around the edges, showing his age. He had prominent ears, rosy cheeks and a kind face, but immediately furrowed his thick brows at Stuart's peculiar stance.

"You alright?", Stuart's dad asked, concern in his tone. Stuart lifted his head, and let out a deep exhale before he mustered the courage to speak. "Erm. Yeah. I'm alright. Absolutely fine, dad. There's just somethin' I need to tell you about, that's all. It's nothing big I promise. So don't overreact okay?", Stuart bumbled, not realising he was adding more gravity to the situation with all the pointless preamble. Stuart's dad sighed at his son's all too apparent nervousness, and leant on the doorway. "What is it?", his dad asked, intrigued, but crossing his arms at the inconvenience of Stuart's timing.

Stuart swallowed. "It's just.. I-. I won't be able to go to work today dad. Because, well-", Stuart thought quickly to make his explanation vague, hoping to avoid an immediate barrage of questions. "I'm going somewhere.. With someone", He said, averting eye contact. His efforts to avoid being probed proved fruitless however, and after a few moments his dad's face hardened at his words, and the older man soon spoke up.

"I know i'm your dad, and it can be hard to keep things official and that, but you have _got_ to give me at least two weeks to plan before you go anywhere Stu. You need to book time off, I thought you'd know that by now", He said, his voice lowered. "Where are you planning on going off to? With who?", He continued, before Stuart could even get a word in. His stance did not yet resemble anger, but Stuart judged that his dad definitely didn't look at all pleased.

Stuart stared down as he fiddled with his phone, which then buzzed between his trembling fingers as it received a text. However, he didn't dare look. Not now. "To Newquay for a bit, with my friend Murdoc". Stuart opted for making out like he was very close to the goth in order for his father to feel that bit more secure about it. However, his dad immediately flashed him a puzzled look at his elaboration. "What are you going to sodding Newquay for at this time of year? I don't know if you're aware son, but it's the middle of _January_ ". His tone was sarcastic, but Stuart could tell that beneath it was a hint of annoyance.

"We just want to go there for a while. Not to long, though. He suggested it and I figured I needed a break-". "No", Stuart's father interrupted. Stuart looked up at him with a solemn expression, and his father responded to Stuart's gaze with unrelenting eye contact. "I'm putting my foot down. You can't just go to Newquay like that, Stu. It would've been fine if you told me about two weeks ago, but this is too late notice. Why don't you go another time?", His dad voiced.

Stuart wasn't usually the type to get angry. He always seemed to just float through life, and that was the main reason why most of his friends thought he came off as spacey or detached; because outwardly, he didn't seem to be someone reactive. However, Stuart's unassuming nature was blown out of the window at his dad's words, and his youthful face contorted with anger as he stood up from the bed.

"Dad. I'm _twenty two_. How can I get the chance to act it if i'm always bloody cooped up here with you and mum?", Stuart spat. His dad didn't flinch, but rather continued to stare at Stuart calmly, albeit with a look of confusion at his son's outburst. Stuart, while in the throws of his anger, irrationally interpreted his father's lack of a reaction as condescending, and didn't give the man a chance to speak before he continued. "And anyway-", Stuart began, crossing his arms. "Murdoc is coming here this morning to pick me up. So i'm gonna go with him whether you like it or not, dad".

Stuart's dad stared at his son with wide eyes, and immediately exhaled deeply, letting his arms fall to his sides. Stuart wasn't looking at his father at this point, and the silence was killing him. He instantly regretted what he had said, and when he heard his dad utter "wait till your mum hears about this..", he quickly looked towards where his dad was stood, and saw the disappointment in the older man's eyes. Stuart didn't know what to say, so he just let his father leave, nervously wringing his hands. At this point, he didn't even want to think about what his mother would say.

Stuart then descended into a trance as he anxiously bit his finger nails, his gaze fixed upon the now empty doorway to his room as he tried to listen out for his father's voice coming from downstairs. He was paranoid. Paranoid about what they would be saying about him, about the possibility of losing his job, about somehow being judged for wanting something _more_. However, the descending black cloud of his thoughts was cleared abruptly when his phone violently buzzed once again in his hand, and he quickly looked to his most recently received message.

_Stu. I'm nearly at your house. You still coming??_

It was from Murdoc, and Stuart instantly reeled. He hadn't even packed, and his parent's were no doubt debating the whole affair downstairs at this very moment. He knew he was in no position to go right away, and so he replied quickly with a 'Yes', and then hunched down to pull a large hold-all from underneath his bed. He began packing his things into the bag in near-silence, listening out for his parent's voices. However so far, there was still nothing to go by, no sounds to interpret. Nothing.

They were no doubt whispering about him, Stuart quickly judged. His father and mother were probably using those hushed voiced they would put on when they argued. Stuart huffed as he folded a pile of T-shirts into the bag, giving up on listening out for his parent's reactions. They were annoyingly good at keeping him out of the know.

About five minutes later, when Stuart was almost half-way through his hurried packing session, he suddenly heard his mom calling him from downstairs. "Stuart, can you come down a moment please?", she yelled. Stuart dropped his toothbrush, shaving foam and razor into the bags side-pocket before opening his bedroom door and begrudgingly heading down the stairs. When he got to the kitchen, his father was sat at the dinner table to Stuart's left. The man was gripping a steaming mug of tea set to the side of him, placed neatly on a coaster, and stared up at Stuart with his head in his hand.

There was something solemn about his father's expression, and it momentarily concerned Stuart, before he walked further into the kitchen to see his mother stood in the far corner, leaning on the counter. She was a larger woman, with mid-length brown, wispy hair and a plump face. She gave a small smile at Stuart, and gestured to a steaming mug beside her. "I made you a cup of tea, Stu", she said. Startlingly, she didn't seem angry..quite the opposite, Stuart judged. His mother had always been attentive to him, almost stiflingly so, and he quickly noticed that she was giving him the same look of concern that she gave him when he fell out of that tree all those years ago, and he didn't know what he thought about it.

"Thanks..", Stuart muttered, and he took the mug in his hands before leaning on the counter opposite his mother. "So, your dad and I have been talking about you going to Newquay today-", his mother began, giving Stuart's father a momentary glance. "And really Stu, you should have told your father about it earlier". Stuart exhaled deeply before taking a small sip of his tea, preparing for an onslaught. "But-", his mother continued, seeing that Stuart was bracing himself for the worst. "Because you haven't had a day off in weeks, I have said that you _can_ go, but I will have to meet this 'Murdoc' first. Just to make sure you will be safe with him, Stu".

Stuart was left pretty much speechless for a few moments, but when he had processed what his mother had said, a toothy grin crept onto his face. Stuart's mother grinned back, and Stuart turned to his father, who stood up from the dinner table. "You're right, son-", his dad began, walking over to where Stuart was stood with a smile on his face. "You do need some time off, just let me bloody know next time", his dad jokingly said, before pulling Stuart into a hug.

When Stuart's father released his son, he ruffled Stuart's hair and grinned. "So when is this Murdoc fella going to be coming then? I've got to get to work soon", his dad inquired cheerfully. Stuart quickly looked to his phone, and saw that he had not received any more texts from Murdoc since the last one. Stuart shrugged, closing his phone and slipping it back into his pocket before he answered. "I honestly don't kn-"

BEEEP

The booming sound of the car horn of a Winnebago suddenly rattled the entire house, and Stuart flinched, while his father reeled back in shock and furrowed his brows at the onset of silence. Stuart's mother was just releasing the grip she had over her ears when she shakily spoke up. "What the _bloody hell_ was-"

BEEEP

There it was again, and Stuart, realising who it was, no longer felt shocked. His whole body began to tremble with unbridled excitement and a wide, knowing smile crept onto his face. Murdoc was here.

Stuart practically ran towards the front door, leaving his parents dazed in the kitchen. When he opened it, he saw the hulking Winnie parked at the side of the road a few metres from his house, sticking out like a sore thumb among the very ordinary, working class cars that were surrounding it. It was a wonder how Murdoc had even managed to park it there, Stuart suddenly thought. However his thoughts were interrupted when the front door of the Winnebago abruptly opened, and a dark man wearing slick grey cuban heels got out.

Murdoc had on his trademark leather jacket, and his black hair just brushed across his beady dark eyes, partially obscuring them mysteriously as it always seemed to do. Murdoc leant casually onto the Winnebago before speaking up. "Well don't just stand there gawking, Stu. Let's go", He shouted, not caring that he was in a usually quiet and peaceful neighbourhood on the rural outskirts of Crawley.

Stuart realised then that he had been in somewhat of a trance, and felt his face flush slightly in embarrassment at the other man noticing. Here it was again, the nervousness that he always felt when Murdoc was around. It was somehow getting worse, and Stuart tried his best to stifle it as he walked towards the other man.

When he got to the Winnebago, Murdoc was already getting in again, adjusting himself into the drivers seat, and seemingly concentrating as he pressed some buttons on the radio. Stuart stood at the Winnebagos side, looking into the open side door. "Murdoc, can you just listen a moment?", Stuart asked. Murdoc looked up from the radio, locking eyes with Stuart as he answered. "Mate. I haven't got a 'moment'. We need to go. Now", Murdoc stated bluntly, his tone taking Stuart slightly aback.

"It's urgent. You need to meet my parents", Stuart blurted, feeling anticipation rising up within him. Murdoc raised an eyebrow. "Wow", he said in a jokingly deadpan tone before his lips curled into a smirk. "Isn't that moving a bit too fast?". Stuart felt his heart rate surge at the other man's words. "No, no. It's not like that. They will only let me go if they meet you, that's all. To make sure i'm safe. It'll only be five minutes", He quickly explained. Murdoc looked dumbfounded for a moment, and then leant back on the car seat, crossing his arms.

"Let me get this straight-", He began sarcastically. "Your mum and dad don't... _trust_ me?", He asked, feigning a look of victimisation. Stuart flashed Murdoc a meek expression before he answered, wringing his hands. "Erm.. Not now, but that's cos they haven't met y-". "Sensible parents", Murdoc jokingly interrupted, his voice lowered and gruff, a smug smile on his face.

Stuart rolled his eyes at the other man's snark. "Come on, Murdoc. Just five minutes to show them you ain't some murderer and then we can go, yeah?", He said, noticing Murdoc was stalling. Murdoc gave Stuart a look of discontent before huffing as he begrudgingly got out of the Winnebago, slamming the side door.

Both men walked side by side as they headed back towards Stuart's house, and as they neared the front door, Stuart heard Murdoc's hushed voice meet his ears. "This better be sodding quick", he muttered under his breath before stepping into the hallway behind the younger man, his cuban heels clacking against the wooden hallway floor. Stuart couldn't help but smile despite the other man's overt discontent as they entered the house, because it was at the sound of Murdoc in his own home that he suddenly realised; This was happening. It was actually happening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update in the next week


	6. Chapter 6

Murdoc begrudgingly followed behind Stuart, and although he came across as completely uninterested, he couldn't help but observe the details of Stuart's house as they entered it, with the security of knowing that Stuart couldn't see that he was curious. Murdoc tilted his head as he walked by Stuart's family photos, and he quickly noticed that Stuart's hair hasn't always been blue, but when he was very young the other man's head was adorned with wispy chestnut-brown hair, seemingly just like his mothers. Murdoc half-smiled at this, mentally noting to bring the topic up later with the younger man as he continued to sidle down the hallway.

They walked by a doorway to the living room on the left, and Murdoc sneaked a look. The room was full of warm tones, the sunlight falling in shards across the wall opposite the bay window, illuminating the details of the small fire place across from it. There seemed to be a caged bird in the rooms far corner, and Murdoc saw yet more family photos lining the walls.

It all looked so.. _Normal_. Almost sickeningly so. Murdoc had never known this type of family, this homely way of life. It was like entering an alternate reality, when all he and his brother had known was the dank, cold house they unfortunately inhabited throughout their younger years. Their dad being nothing more to them than a prominent figure in their nightmares. Murdoc itched his arm as he continued to walk, all of a sudden feeling startlingly out of place.

Stuart turned and gave Murdoc one more look before they entered the kitchen, and from Stuart's ambiguous expression, Murdoc quickly decided that he couldn't tell whether the younger man was excited or petrified about all of this. Stuart tentatively placed a hand on the kitchen door knob and looked pensive for a moment, before he then beckoned Murdoc a bit closer to him. Once Murdoc had slowly stepped closer, Stuart bent down slightly and lowered his voice to a whisper. "No funny business, Murdoc. Just be as nice as possible. Okay?", He asked, his eyes flitting as he desperately stared into Murdoc's eyes, needing the older man's agreement.

Murdoc placed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and rolled his eyes before slowly nodding in response. Really, all the older man was thinking about at this point was how he had managed to get himself into this situation, especially when his circumstances called for anything but this type of pointless faffing about. He practically itched to get back into that Winnebago and drive for miles; he _needed_ to. However, at Murdoc's reluctant confirmation, Stuart then turned and opened the door to the kitchen, flashing his parents a small smile as he lead the way in.

Murdoc strolled casually into the kitchen, and set his black eyes upon Stuart's parents, who were both stood leaning against the kitchen counter. Stuart then joined his parents, standing next to his father, and gestured towards the dark man in their kitchen. "Mom and Dad, meet Murdoc", the younger man said with a smile.

Despite Stuart's efforts, his mother and father looked a little shaken at the sight of the man stood before them. Murdoc was an intimidating sight, and he certainly didn't look like a usual friend of their son, with his green-tinted skin and gothic aura. Stuart's dad noticed the cigarette tucked behind Murdoc's ear, before staring down at the prominent inverted cross pendant around Murdoc's neck, and his lips curled into what seemed to be a look of silent confusion, mixed with a hint of disgust. Just before the silence got awkward, Stuart's mother remembered her manners and spoke up, pulling her lips into a reluctant smile.

"Nice to meet you, Murdoc", She said, holding out a hand to him. Murdoc leaned foreword and shook her hand back, uttering a gruff "you too", before he then shook Stuart's father's hand. Stuart's dad then cleared his throat, trying his best to remain casual. "Cup of tea?", he quickly proposed to Murdoc, walking towards the kettle in the corner of the kitchen. "Coffee, please. Black", Murdoc bluntly answered, although he had half a mind to ask for a generous shot of whiskey in there also, going by the overwhelmingly tense atmosphere.

Stuart's mother carefully picked up her mug from the kitchen counter, and took a quick, cautionary sip of tea before speaking up with the steaming mug in her hands. "Stuart has never mentioned you before today, when did you two meet?". As she asked this, Stuart's heart instantly began to race. He had only known Murdoc a few days, but there was no way they could admit that without facing some kind of inevitable backlash. He quickly looked to Murdoc, who to Stuart's surprise, also looked a little stumped.

At the sight of the usually quick-witted man suddenly lost for words, Stuart instantly became desperate, and his mind worked as he tried to concoct some kind of lie, make out like they had been friends for years; like they had always been planning a trip together. However just before he could speak, Murdoc's voice suddenly filled the room, and Stuart looked to see Murdoc casually leaning against the fridge.

"Well.. It's funny actually. We met at the fair a few months ago. I was trying to pull this bird, right? A reeaal looker, she was. And I thought, there's no better way to do that than take her to the fair and we could hop on the ferris wheel together.. Look at the sights, maybe have a cheeky snog while we watch Crawley go by. Anyway, when we were finished, I couldn't get out of the bloody thing! My sodding cuban heel was jammed under the chair, and just when I thought I would be stuck on the ferris wheel for another stupid round, Stuart came and lifted the rail for us. Right in the nick of time. We've been mates ever since", Murdoc casually explained.

Stuart, who had been tentatively taking a sip of his tea while Murdoc spoke, trying his utmost to maintain a chilled-out facade, almost choked on the steaming drink. Stuart's father had frozen with the teaspoon he had been using to mix Murdoc's cup of coffee held shakily between his fingers, staring up at Murdoc with a wide-eyed expression. "Right...", Stuart's mother suddenly vocalised, not exactly sure how to respond. She placed her mug back on the kitchen counter top before shooting Stuart a stern look.

Stuart quickly decided to change the topic. "You're a bassist, aren't you Murdoc? Why don't you tell 'em about that?", He desperately proposed. Murdoc sighed. "I'm a bassist on the _side_ , Stu. Really, I make no money from it. I'm well and truly skint". At this point, Stuart's father handed Murdoc his mug of coffee, and Murdoc gave a quick "thanks" as he held the mug by the handle. Stuart's dad then interrupted as he walked back to where he had been previously standing. "So how do you make money then, Murdoc?", He asked, once again leaning against the kitchen counter.

Murdoc became a bit fidgety at that question, scratching his head before he answered with a quick exhale. "Well.. I actually do some medical stuff. Part time", He answered hesitantly. Stuart's mother looked surprised at this. "Is that so?", She quickly inquired. "Well, how are you skint then? The medical profession is well payed, right?". Murdoc gave a shrug, seemingly a bit more relaxed. It wasn't hard to form a lie when it so closely resembled reality. "I've just started. And believe me when I tell you, my boss has one hell of a stick up his arse. The pay so far has been shit".

Stuart's father almost winced at Murdoc's swearing. They were by no means a model family, but Stuart had never been allowed to swear at home, and Murdoc was the epitome of everything they didn't want their son to become. However despite all of the unspoken judgment, Murdoc remained relaxed, completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't responding to this situation in the way that any normal person would.

This was _him_ ; unadulterated, pure Murdoc. Lying was his forte, and if they didn't like what he said, or how he spoke, they could sod off. He had never had model parental figures to tell him what to do and how to act, and his father's methods of parenting (if they could be called that) were anything but exemplary. While Stuart's values were imprinted upon him by his doting mother and father, Murdoc had been moulded by his father's absence, and that is what had made him the man he was today.

Murdoc took a gulp of coffee, and then looked to Stuart's parents once again, raising an eyebrow in response to the sudden onset of silence. "Any more questions? I feel like i'm on sodding _Newsnight_ ", He voiced sarcastically. "Yeah, actually-", Stuart's mother began. "Why are you boys wanting to go to Newquay then? I'm just curious, seeing as it is winter, and you're going to a seaside town..".

Stuart awkwardly scratched his arm. He was only going there because of Murdoc, and so there really wasn't much he could say. However, it was a good thing that Murdoc was startlingly good at thinking on his feet- him being somewhat of a compulsive lier was proving very useful. "The golf. They have a course there and it's brilliant. Used to go there with my old band mates after a wild night out. I mean, obviously we were absolutely _wankered,_ but that's what made it fun..you ever seen someone trying to place a tee when they can hardly stand on two legs? Fucking hilarious. I could play that game all day", Murdoc quickly answered, feigning reminiscence.

It was at that point that Murdoc's phone began to buzz in his jacket pocket, and when he pulled it out and looked to it, Stuart noticed the man's face automatically harden. Murdoc's tone became less animated, and he spoke without looking away from the screen. "I'm sorry. I- I have to take this", He vocalised, before quickly leaving through the door of the kitchen.

Silence soon befell with Murdoc's sudden absence, and Stuart looked meekly to his parents, trying to gauge their reactions. Stuart's father was staring into space, seemingly contemplative as he held onto his mug of tea. Stuart had seen that face before, and it wasn't a good sign. It was his dad mulling things over in his head, and usually came before an outburst. Stuart then looked to his mother, who stared back at her son with concern in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to go to Newquay with.. _that_?", She shakily asked him.

Stuart hesitated for a moment. Murdoc, in the little time that Stuart had known him, certainly wasn't a good friend to have for his reputation. Murdoc was unashamedly loud, inappropriate, a thieving rogue.. He was someone that would put off anyone with a shred of common sense. But that was exactly the reason that Stuart was so captivated by him, and he couldn't justify it, he couldn't even put the feeling into _words_. It just was, and Stuart wasn't going to give in to the people who didn't see Murdoc in the way that he did.

Stuart turned to his mother with defiance in his eyes. "Yes, actually. Yeah I do. And if you don't like it mum, that's your problem", He said, his voice lowered and genuine. His mother was rendered a little speechless at Stuart's steadfastness. Her son had never looked so determined, and she faltered, not exactly sure how to respond. Stuart saw his mother's ambiguous reaction as his cue to leave, and so he briskly walked towards the kitchen door, closing it quietly on his way out. As Stuart's mother listened to the sound of her son stomping up the stairs to the second floor of the house, she turned to Stuart's father, who looked equally as stunned. "He's becoming more and more like you every day", She uttered.

When Stuart opened the door to his room, his eyes flitted as he assessed the situation. The hold-all he had been packing was open, and more than half-way full. There were just a few more things he needed to throw in there and then he could leave as quickly and quietly as possible. Technically, his mother had already given him permission to go, but Stuart wanted to avoid the possibility of her reconsidering that decision after meeting Murdoc.

Stuart grabbed a couple of pairs of jeans, another jacket and some socks and threw them all in, paying little attention to the unruly manner that he was attempting to fill the bag with. He could worry about all of that later, right now, he just needed to get out. Murdoc had sounded noticeably desperate to leave, and Stuart didn't want to keep him waiting. Really, it was the least he could do for the older man, who had just been probed endlessly by his overly concerned parents.

About five minutes later, Stuart had been straddling the bag, trying desperately to hold the bulk of his belongings down so he could zip it up, when he suddenly heard the front door of the house open and then slam again. Stuart instantly ran towards the window to see who it was, and he peered out through the gap in his bedroom curtains. He then watched as his father walked towards his car and got in, a stern look on the man's face as he revved it up and carefully reversed out of the drive, narrowly avoiding a collision with Murdoc's Winnebago.

When his father had gone, Stuart's attention then turned to Murdoc, who was sat at the front wheel of the Winnie, seemingly still on the phone. However, Stuart's poor vision didn't allow him to see much more than that. He narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge Murdoc's expression, but nothing came of it. Instead, Stuart quickly went back to finishing his packing. After a few desperate attempts, he soon managed to zip the bag up entirely, and slipped out of his bedroom, closing the door quietly before heading down the stairs and out of the front door, the hulking bag he held trailing behind him.

When he got to the Winnebago, Stuart knocked on the side door in order to get Murdoc's attention. Murdoc looked a little startled at Stuart's presence for a moment, and the older man quickly took his phone from his ear, hanging up before placing it on the dashboard before him. Murdoc then leant over and opened the door to let Stuart in. "You took your sweet time", Murdoc uttered before grunting as he sat back upright in his seat. Stuart only huffed in response, before hauling the heavy bag into a space below the passenger seat and getting in.

When he was comfortable in his seat, Stuart's nose flickered as he noticed the smell that quickly flooded his senses. It was a scent largely comprised of musty cigarette smoke, and Stuart soon noticed the ash tray before him full to the brim with burnt down cigarette nubs, probably left to accumulate and fester there for well over a few months. However, Stuart could smell something else, like the thick scent of old whiskey, along with the all-consuming must that acted as an undertone to it all. It was a jarring experience for the younger man, who valiantly fought the urge to cover his nose for fear of seeming rude.

Murdoc smirked as he stole a glance at Stuart while he played with the radio, eventually settling on a song by The Jam before speaking up. "Don't worry, Stu. You'll get used to the smell in no time", He said casually, before he then turned the volume up to the loudest it could go and revved up the Winnebago, reversing a little before he then accelerated wildly, speeding out of Stuart's neighbourhood.

As he stared out of the window, pensively watching his small house disappear into the distance, Stuart couldn't help but think about everything that had just happened. Although he was happy they were finally on their way, Stuart felt a twinge of regret at how that meeting had panned out. He should have known better. He should have known that Murdoc wasn't going to comply- the older man was a lot of things, but by no means was he someone that would follow the rules.

Fuelled by this train of thought, Stuart reached over and turned down the radio so he could speak. Murdoc, who had been nodding his head along to the beat, briefly turned to Stuart in reaction to the abrupt onset of silence. "Oi! I was listening to that!", He exclaimed as he continued to drive. Stuart then noticed Murdoc's hand move back towards the volume dial, and just before the older man could turn it, Stuart gently placed his hand over Murdoc's and pulled it away.

Murdoc didn't expect this sudden, delicate contact, and he reluctantly gave in, huffing as he placed his hand back on the wheel. With Stuart's peculiar silence, Murdoc could tell something was on the younger man's mind. "What is it?", he asked through a sigh. Stuart ruffled his hair, not sure how to put what he wanted to say into words. "Well.. I don't know what you're thinking Murdoc, but that could have gone better", He finally voiced, before looking to Murdoc's profile to gauge the older man's reaction.

At this, Murdoc gave a disgruntled expression as they turned a corner. "What do you mean 'could have gone better'? The fact that I was even _there_ was a sodding miracle, so don't start with that", He retorted, showcasing the exact response Stuart had been hoping to avoid. However, now the topic had been raised, Stuart didn't shy away from broaching it. "Murdoc. It would have been so much easier if you'd have at least _pretended_ you were normal. You should've seen the looks they gave me when I left the kitchen..like I was going to Newquay with a flippin' psycho".

Murdoc furrowed his brows, leaving a beat of silence before he spoke up. "If you need to know one thing about me, Stu, it's that I'm not pretending to be anything for anyone", He began, his voice lowered and gruff, before he gave a small shrug. "I'm just not going to act like some poncey prick to get people to like me. If that makes 'em uncomfortable, they can sod off for all I care". Reactively, Stuart crossed his arms and resumed looking out of the side window, disappointed with Murdoc's apathetic response.

Murdoc glanced over at Stuart, and gave a deep sigh when he noticed the younger man's silent discontent. "Well, if you don't like the way I am, Stu, then why are you even here? I could drop you back home if-". "Of course I like the way you are-", Stuart quickly interrupted. "Who said I didn't? Maybe it's just that..", the younger man became suddenly aware of himself, and his words trailed off into silence as he hesitated.

Stuart knew what he wanted to say, he just couldn't quite let the words spill from his lips. Murdoc gave an impatient look at Stuart's abrupt wordlessness. "That what?", He quickly asked, momentarily looking to the younger man as he drove. Stuart took in a deep breath, feeling his heart begin to race within the confines of his chest. "Maybe it's just that I wish more people saw you the way _I_ see you", He finally uttered with a small smile.

Murdoc was speechless for a few moments, and Stuart flushed red with embarrassment as a barrage of doubting thoughts began to set in. At Murdoc's ambiguous reaction, Stuart turned away, internally kicking himself for letting such a closely guarded thought of his bubble to the surface. In that moment, all that he wanted down to his very core was to reclaim the words that had just met the other man's ears, take them back, rewind time. However, what Stuart wasn't expecting was to hear a small chuckle coming from Murdoc's direction, and he reflexively furrowed his brows in puzzlement.

"What?", Stuart hastily asked without thinking, turning to see Murdoc looking like he was about to burst with laughter. Murdoc smirked before he spoke up. "I'm sorry, Stu-", the older man shakily began. "But that has _got_ to be the sappiest thing that anyone has ever said to me". With Murdoc's snark, Stuart instantly felt all of his nerves dissipate, and he couldn't help but release a laugh. "Oh, come off it", Stuart said through a giggle, playfully hitting Murdoc on the shoulder before he relaxed back in his seat.

There were a few moments where neither of them said anything, momentarily forgetting the car radio as they sat calmly encased in a comfortable silence. However, what Stuart didn't notice was that Murdoc still had a lingering smile painted across his face at what he had said, and now that the younger man wasn't paying attention, it had morphed from a playful smirk into something emotional, something genuine.

Murdoc mulled over the events of the past few days in his mind as he drove, and despite his less than favourable circumstances, he couldn't help but feel lucky that it had all gotten him here; sat beside Stuart, the Winnebago rumbling gently as they sped down the motorway that stretched out for miles before them. It all felt like a new beginning, and beneath his calm exterior, he was unimaginably excited to see this through, to turn the first page of their story.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update in the next week.


	7. Chapter 7

Stuart loved travelling on the motor way. The endless drone of the car, watching the other vehicles continuously buzz past, it all reminded him of the happy days he would spend travelling to Devon with his parents when he was a child. Really, the journey should be the boring part, the part that people want to fast-foreward, or skip entirely if they could. But to Stuart, it signalled unlocked potential. Like something wonderful was waiting for him at the end of the road, and he would enjoy every second that it took to get there.

Stuart leaned foreword slightly and turned the radio back on, turning the dial to a medium volume before he then leant back into his seat, which was surprisingly quite cosy. The younger man then ran a hand through his hair and turned to Murdoc, who now seemed to be trying to light a cigarette as he drove. Murdoc bit the cigarette between his teeth and brought out a lighter from a side compartment adjacent to him.

Before he lit it however, Murdoc side-glanced at Stuart, and voiced a gruff "You mind?", while he held the lighter in his free hand. "Nope", Stuart casually answered, and Murdoc then nodded and lit the cigarette, placing the lighter back into the compartment before then holding the smoking cigarette in his mouth as he drove. While he was doing this, Stuart felt his stomach suddenly rumble, and it occurred to him that he hadn't had time to eat anything yet.

"Erm.. Murdoc?", Stuart asked tentatively, desperation in his eyes. "Mhm?", Murdoc grumbled, momentarily looking to the younger man. "Do you think we could stop to get some breakfast quickly? I'm starvin'", Stuart inquired, noticing a sign for a service station just a short distance ahead of them. Murdoc huffed at this, cigarette smoke suddenly escaping his nose. "Really?", Murdoc began, taking the cigarette from his mouth and gripping it between two fingers as he drove. "You're hungry already? Come on, we've literally just started Stu".

Stuart sighed, feeling his stomach grumbling once again, this time loud enough for Murdoc to hear it. "There's your answer", Stuart chuckled, before looking inquisitive. "Don't you want breakfast?", the younger man asked. Murdoc shook the hand holding the cigarette slightly, drawing Stuart's attention to it before speaking up. "This _is_ my breakfast", Murdoc grumbled, before placing the cigarette back into his mouth and taking a long drag, causing Stuart to roll his eyes.

However, after a few moments, Murdoc sighed defeatedly as they neared the turning to the next service station. "But if you are really _that_ hungry, we can stop here", Murdoc uttered before yanking the wheel of the Winnebago, turning into the lane furthest to the left. Stuart's lips curled into a smile at the other man's gesture, letting out a small "Thanks" before directing his attention to the hoard of restaurants available as they drove towards the car park.

When they had found a place and parked, Murdoc opened up the Winnebago and got out. The older man then looked back, noticing Stuart going to unplug his own seat belt before quickly speaking up. "Don't worry. I'll get it for you", Murdoc proposed, casually leaning against the open door of the Winnie before raising an eyebrow. "..So what is it that you normal people have for breakfast, then?", He asked sarcastically, and Stuart grinned. "Erm.. Maybe a sausage and egg burger from Maccies, and a red bull?", He answered. Murdoc nodded calmly and closed the door before sidling across the car park in the direction of the nearest McDonalds.

Stuart watched Murdoc walking, his jet black hair tussled by the wind, taking the occasional drag of his cigarette as he went, and the younger man couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a time where Murdoc didn't look effortlessly cool. Stuart had thought upon occasion that perhaps Murdoc was putting on an act, and up until now, a part of him had been waiting for that facade to drop, to see the real Murdoc. However, now it didn't seem likely that that would happen; Perhaps he had just never met anyone at all like Murdoc.

About five minutes later, Murdoc returned with Stuart's breakfast, handing it to the younger man before he started up the Winnebago and turned up the music once again. Stuart thanked Murdoc happily and opened up the wrapper of his burger, taking a large bite as Murdoc drove towards the car park exit.

Stuart chewed contently for a few moments while he looked out of the window, and he soon noticed the weather had picked up, catching sight of the morning sun casting its light upon the trees that sped past and the pale blue sky that rolled above them. Stuart reactively rolled down the window slightly in order to feel the chill wind rush across his face as they rejoined the bustle of the motor way, and he found himself feeling completely and utterly relaxed.

Murdoc didn't have to buy this breakfast for him, and Stuart couldn't help but feel warm inside at the gesture. However, it was with this thought that a sudden realisation washed over the younger man, and he had to speak up. "Wait-", Stuart began, turning to Murdoc. "Did you...steal these?", He tentatively asked, gesturing to the burger and drink. At this, Murdoc smirked as he drove, and the older man's smug facial expression spoke louder than words.

Stuart furrowed his brows. "You did, didn't you? Flippin' heck Murdoc, do you _have_ to steal everything? I could have just given you money", Stuart voiced, annoyance in his tone. Murdoc scratched his head. "Look, mate. I didn't steal 'em, I just...relieved them of those items", He wittily answered, before turning the Winnebago into the fast lane. Stuart huffed, crossing his arms. "Did you now?", He retorted sarcastically. "Blimey Murdoc. I mean, how did you even nick this stuff that quickly?".

Murdoc shrugged. "I've told you this once and i'll tell you again. It's a habit", He answered matter-of-factly, before he looked pensive for a few moments. "You know, I think you're the only person that has ever caught me", He uttered thoughtfully. Stuart raised an eyebrow at this as he took another large bite. "Does that make me special?", He asked through a full mouth, and Murdoc smirked. "Hah. If you say so, Stu", He joked, before looking back at the road ahead of him in thought. "I would get away with so much shit as a kid.. You wouldn't believe. Every nicking spree we went on, my older brother would take the flack. That bastard taught me how to steal, and it's a lesson I never really grew out of".

Stuart furrowed his brows at Murdoc's words. "You have an older brother?", He asked, finding the thought of Murdoc being junior to anyone both comical and fascinating all at once. Murdoc grunted in confirmation as he tapped his long finger nails against the steering wheel to the change of song on the radio. "Yeah.. Unfortunately. But we don't exactly have a normal sibling relationship, Stu. All i'm saying is you'd have never found me and him in an arcade or some shit playing _Pong_ , if you catch my drift".

Stuart brought up an arm, leaning his elbow against the side of the Winnebago and resting his head in his hand, his interest sparked at what Murdoc had revealed. "So what's he like?", The younger man asked curiously, and Murdoc looked hesitant to answer for a few moments. Stuart had never seen Murdoc waver like this, like the other man was thinking through his response meticulously. It was a captivating sight, to see Murdoc so hesitant, and Stuart allowed him time to think.

When Murdoc finally answered, his voice was gruff and he had a grave expression on his face that Stuart couldn't quite tear his eyes away from. "You think i'm bad? I'm a sodding _angel_ compared to my brother. The bloke's a short-wired circuit", He said, and Stuart struggled to think of a response. Stuart had never known what it was like to have a sibling, but he had always thought of it as an experience he had missed out on.

When Stuart was very young, he invented an imaginary little brother to get over the nagging empty feeling his single childhood had caused, and the fact that Murdoc seemed to have contempt for his brother was something he struggled to wrap his head around. Murdoc noticed Stuart's lack of a response and decided to fill the silence between them. "He's the real reason we're going to Newquay, you know", Murdoc mused, bringing it up like it was a simple passing thought. Stuart looked to Murdoc, curiosity in his gaze, calling for the older man to elaborate.

"My dad used to take us there as kids, when he actually felt like being a dad, that is. Of course, he spent most of his time drinking himself into the ground at the pub we were staying in and Hannibal and I would be.. well, left to our devices", Murdoc explained, not really looking at Stuart as he spoke.

"We would get up to all sorts of questionable activities, don't get me wrong. I mean, at one point Hannibal nearly crashed our dad's car into a row of bollards after he stole it to do a few spins in the pub car park one night-", Murdoc chuckled slightly at this thought and spoke up after a beat of silence with a reflective expression painted across his features. "But really, my favourite memories of those holidays are when me and Hannibal would just..chill together. Sooner or later we'd get bored of being ruinous little shits and just sit and eat crisps on the curb, or skip stones down at the beach".

Murdoc half-smiled at this reminiscence for a moment, and Stuart didn't dare interrupt. "It's kind of sad really, isn't it? The fact that those are some of my happiest days...and they weren't even that happy". Stuart couldn't help but feel saddened as he processed what Murdoc had divulged with him. Murdoc, in this small monologue, had revealed the true colour of his childhood, and it struck Stuart as a dreary and hopeless shade of grey. It was both incredibly sad and fascinating, to see Murdoc opening up to him like this.

Stuart gazed at the older man's profile, sympathy in his expression. "I'm so sorry, Murdoc", Stuart uttered in a small, but understanding voice. Murdoc immediately furrowed his brows as he accelerated the Winnebago into another lane. "Let's stop that right _there_. This isn't some kind of pity party, Stu. Shit happens. If i'd had a comfy cosy childhood like yours I wouldn't be who I am today, and what would the world be without the amazing Murdoc Niccals in it?", He responded, his usual snark once again rearing its head.

Stuart could sense that Murdoc was somehow backtracking. It was as if he was once again regressing into that same facade that Stuart had only had very short glimpses behind. However, the younger man relented, and acknowledging the fact that perhaps Murdoc just simply wasn't ready to reveal any more of himself, he decided to respond humorously, lighten the mood. "Wouldn't it pretty much be the same?", Stuart remarked playfully, his lips curling into a grin. "Oh Fack off, you" Murdoc retorted, a joking smile on his face.

"Anywaay-", Murdoc began. "That's enough about me. I want to know about _you_ , Stu. One specific thing, actually", Murdoc proposed, and Stuart looked slightly fearful at the other man's tone as he slowly took another bite of his burger. "What is it?", Stuart asked despite a full mouth, feeling his heart quicken in pace. "Of all the hair colours you could have chosen, why blue? I mean, it's one sure-fire way to stand out in a crowd, i'll give you that", Murdoc inquired comically.

Stuart was expecting Murdoc to ask something far worse, and with the almost striking change of tone, the younger man let out a quick exhale as he felt himself relax once again. "I- I didn't choose it. This is just how it grew in", He answered unsurely after a few moments thought. Murdoc looked puzzled at this explanation, naturally inquiring further. "What do you mean? You dye it, right? You have to dye it", He quickly voiced, confusion in his tone.

Stuart scratched his head. "Erm, I don't dye it. When I was younger I fell out of a tree", He stated, without giving his explanation much thought. Murdoc momentarily looked to Stuart in confusion as he drove. "..Maybe that makes sense in _your_ head, Stu. But I honestly haven't got a clue what you're going on about". Stuart responsively sighed, trying to construct an answer that made sense, despite the event itself being strikingly unbelievable. "When I hit the ground, all of my hair fell out. I was completely bald for weeks, and then when it finally grew back in...it was blue", He elaborated hesitantly.

"You're fucking with me, you've got to be. Come on, Stu. I'm a lot of things, but i'm definitely _not_ gullible", Murdoc retorted, and Stuart faltered. "It's true! Honest. You've met my parents now, you can ask them if you really don't believe me!", Stuart childishly responded, and Murdoc laughed loudly. "Alright, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist, Stu", the older man joked and Stuart leant back in his seat, angrily taking a long sip of his red bull.

The two of them didn't talk for a while, and Murdoc took out a tooth pick from the side compartment of the Winnebago and chewed it casually while listening to the radio, every so often singing in his shrill voice to the occasional rock song from the 80's. It was only when the intro to 'I Fought the Law' by The Clash tore through the speakers that Stuart suddenly piped up, flailing his arms excitedly. "Yes! I bloody love this song!", He exclaimed before he started to head-bang to the beat.

Murdoc smirked at the younger man's sudden unbridled enthusiasm, and would sneak looks at Stuart dancing in his seat while he calmly tapped along to the beat against the steering wheel. Stuart's blue hair swung erratically as he moved, and Murdoc caught sight of that endearing gap between his front teeth as he smiled widely. The sight was enough to bring out a quiet, childish grin upon the older man's face as he drove.

However, suddenly Murdoc felt a hand gently grip his upper arm, and he looked to see Stuart looking excitedly at him. "Come on, Murdoc! You can't listen to this song and _not_ head-bang", Stuart insisted. Murdoc rolled his eyes playfully before looking back at the road. "Oh, I honestly can", He calmly retorted, and Stuart scoffed before he began to sing along to the first verse.

Stuart was slow, in more ways than one. He was often bad with words, stumbled through almost every situation that he found himself in; he certainly didn't come across as the brightest. However, Murdoc soon noticed that Stuart not only knew every single lyric to the song, but he sang them near  _perfectly_. Murdoc found himself hopelessly captivated by the voice that was unleashed from the man beside him, and his lips slowly curled into a grin upon realising something: he'd unknowingly discovered Stuart's hidden talent.

Stuart, who was completely unaware that Murdoc was listening so intently to him, continued to sing with enthusiasm. Every so often the younger man would sing along to the words "I fought the law" with his best Joe Strummer impression, and then point to Murdoc, who would respond with a jokingly deadpan "and the law won" as he drove.

Stuart had turned the radio up to its full volume, and the Winnebago rumbled with every clashing symbol and whirring guitar chord as they powered across the motor way. The scenery rushing by them changing from city to city, and all of a sudden it felt like a proper road trip, like everything had somehow fallen into place. After the song ended, Stuart leant back in his chair as he breathed heavily, and Murdoc chuckled.

When Stuart had began to get his breath back, he noticed that Murdoc hadn't really danced, and responsively spoke up between sharp intakes of breath. "You didn't head-bang. Do you not like that song?", the younger man asked with an innocent look. Murdoc smiled knowingly. "No, I _love_ that song. I just wanted to watch.. whatever the hell it was that you were doing instead", He voiced smugly and Stuart flashed him a lazy grin.

After that, Stuart gushed on about how much he loved The Clash, and Murdoc educated the younger man on some of his favourite heavy metal bands. It was as if a whole undiscovered avenue of conversation had suddenly been opened up to them, and they had found it in music. Really, the two of them had a lot in common, despite their outwardly opposite appearances, and it was nice; to feel as though they could talk with each other for what felt like hours, about something that ultimately bonded them.

Eventually, when they were mid-way through the journey, the lack of sleep Stuart had gotten that night caught up to him, and Murdoc turned to notice the younger man silently dozing off while he listed some of his favourite bass players. "Oh-", Murdoc vocalised, "Am I that bloody boring?", He asked, and Stuart suddenly came to at the sound of Murdoc's slightly raised voice. The younger man rubbed at his eyes. "Nah, you're not boring Murdoc. I'm just really tired. Only got about three hours sleep last night, I was too excited", Stuart lazily explained, leaning slightly to the side in his seat.

Murdoc looked over to see the awkward position Stuart was laying in. "Well we _are_ in a Winnebago, Stu. Why don't you just go sleep in my bed for a bit?", the older man proposed. Stuart nodded in agreement, stretching in his seat before he unbuckled and walked with half-lidded eyes to the entrance behind them. When he opened the door to the Winnebagos main room, he took a moment to process his surroundings.

It was strikingly dark, and clothes, empty glass bottles and assorted random novelties littered the wooden floor. Upon the bed that was situated in the rooms centre lay a striking red bass guitar, the cleanest thing in there, still plugged neatly into its amp. There was a desk in the far corner, with an open laptop upon it and an ashtray full to the brim with used cigarettes adjacent to it. The whole place was a jarring sight, and Stuart proceeded to shuffle sleepily towards the bed, carefully avoiding stepping on any randomly strewn underwear as he went.

When he got to the bed, Stuart placed the bass and its amp to one side and took off his shoes before he slipped in among the silk sheets, exhaling in responce to feeling the smooth surface of the fabric enveloping him, and he felt his eyes naturally closing as the prospect of sleep beckoned. 

 

That's when he felt it.

 

Stuart's foot, that had been dangling from the bed, brushed momentarily against the corner of what felt like a piece of paper, and the younger man immediately stirred, thinking to get up and move it out of the way. He slowly sat up in Murdoc's bed and looked over, straining to see what it could have been. Stuart's sleepy gaze fell upon what looked like the edge of a fifty pound note, poking out of a cardboard box just beneath the bed.

Stuart leant over, and concerned that Murdoc would lose this money, decided to open the lid slightly in order to push the stray note back into it. However, he took in a sharp intake of breath when he carefully lifted the lid of the box, his eyes insinctively widening at the sight of what lay within. It was full to the brim with money-fifty pound note upon fifty pound note. Hundreds, probably _thousands_.

Stuart remembered with a start how Murdoc had said time and time again that he was broke, the amount of instances that the older man had even resorted to _stealing_ , and it all didn't seem to add up. Stuart suddenly became aware of himself, and stopped gawking at the money. Instead, he rapidly closed the lid of the box before pushing it back underneath the bed. He then sat upright among the silk sheets and ran a hand through his hair, coming to a reluctant but pertinent realisation:

He had just seen something that he _definitely_ shouldn't have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update in the next week. Sorry for being a day late on this one!


	8. Chapter 8

Earlier that morning.

 

Murdoc anxiously tapped his fingernails against the table. He didn't know it at the time, but it was mostly to distract himself from the fact that his hands were shaking. He felt sick as he looked up, staring out of the small window a metre or so ahead of him, feeling a surge of paranoia rising up within him.

These fear-driven reactions were so alien to him now. Murdoc was all too aware that he was a grown man in his thirties, and yet his body was betraying him as if he was the small boy he once was, shaking in the corner of his small bedroom, flinching at every footstep his dad would take up the creaking stairs below. Murdoc scratched the stubble around his chin, and then ran a trembling hand over his face.

This wasn't him. How could anyone reduce _Murdoc Niccals_ to a quivering mess like this? It wasn't right, and he had to do something about it. Murdoc turned, his dark eyes setting upon the various spirits he had lined up on the shelf above the glossy stolen TV. He took a few steps until he was in front of it and stood on his toes to pull out an opened glass bottle of whiskey.

Murdoc screwed his eyes tight as he took an extended swig of the drink, before gasping for air as he pulled the bottle from his lips. He then leant back against the wall beside the cupboard, feeling his legs ever so slightly giving way.

It was in private moments like this, where Murdoc was alone in his Winnebago, that his instability would overcome him. No one could see the turmoil that lay just below the surface, most of the time even Murdoc himself would turn a blind eye to his own feelings. However unfortunately for him, today wasn't one of those days. It was frustrating to know that on this particular morning, the stakes had unwittingly got to him, overtaking his mind and body alike.

And it was all because of _Hannibal_. Murdoc rested his head on the wall and closed his eyes, subconsciously balling his free hand into a tight fist at the thought of his brother. He should have known. When Hannibal proposed it from the other side of a glass wall during that visit to his prison late last year, Murdoc shouldn't have given him the time of day. Because now he was trapped, and the only way out was in the prospect of escape.

Murdoc still had sensitive bruises across his abdomen, scratches at the base of his neck. They reminded him exactly why his brother was not one to be negotiated with, not in the state he was in. A business partnership between two tormented souls was always destined to fall down the drain, and Murdoc had finally opened his eyes to reality.

Murdoc lifted his head, and his gaze instantly fell upon the space below the table before him. The unassuming cardboard box wedged there seemed to stare back. It was hard to believe from the containers outward appearance that held within it was stacks upon stacks of money, all of five thousand pounds.

 _Five thousand pounds_. The thought of it made Murdoc's heart pound within the confines of his chest. In the little sleep that he had gotten as of late, Murdoc had often imagined what he could do with that amount of money. He thought of the food he could afford, and the prospect of no longer relying on cheap ready meals was all too tantalising.

Not only that, but he played with the idea of the way in which his life would change. In his loneliest moments, he frequently pictured himself in the upper floor of a high-class club in central London, drinking to his heart's content, nonchalantly pulling fifty pound notes from a wallet stuffed full of money. A woman in a cocktail dress on one arm and an attractive man on the other, the clubs neon lights dancing upon their well-dressed forms.

Murdoc bit his nails in thought. Truthfully, he didn't actually know what he was going to do with the money. He struggled to admit to himself that deep down, the prospect of having five thousand pounds all at once scared him. He just didn't know where he would begin, however this realisation was cancelled by the fact that most certainly, Murdoc knew that Hannibal's stubby fingers would never meet the surface of one note of it.

Murdoc took another long swig of whiskey, and as he was doing so, he heard his phone vibrate against the table, and his eyes instantly flitted towards it. He knew it was Hannibal, who else would it be? Murdoc took a few tentative steps towards the table, and shakily placed the bottle of whiskey on its surface before he took his phone into his hands.

For a long moment, he questioned whether he really wanted to open his phone and see the message. The last thing he wanted right now was a reminder that Hannibal was on his back. Murdoc tried to remind himself that despite all the punches his brother would throw at him, all the times Hannibal would tell him he was worthless when they failed a deal, he knew that Hannibal _needed_ him, and therefore, he had somewhat of an upper hand in all of this.

Hannibal doesn't talk unless its an absolute necessity, and when he does, it's short, broken sentences spoken in his rumblingly low voice. Prison changed him, and Murdoc knew that due to the time his brother had spent living behind bars, Hannibal now puts so much effort into being intimidating that he has forgotten how to communicate like a normal person.

And that's where Murdoc came in. Murdoc, with his quick-wit and straight-talking negotiating techniques, was undeniably essential for the longevity of their partnership. It wasn't hard for Murdoc to come to the realisation that without himself, none of it would be possible, and he could use this position of power to his advantage if absolutely necessary.

Murdoc opened the phone and it's glow filled the dimly lit room. On it, predictably, was a short message from his brother.

_Sorting out the crates and going to deliver them to him soon. I'll come to you after to talk money. Don't you dare put one greasy finger on it until I do. Where are you parked this time?_

_Hannibal_

Murdoc stared at this message for a few long moments, and suddenly he felt sick. Was he really going to do this? For the first time in years, Murdoc felt anxious down to his very core, and he became aware of his hands beginning to shake once again. Murdoc reactively picked up the whiskey from the table, quickly pulling it towards his mouth to drink again, his eyes locked to the glare of the phone screen. However, just before his lips met the cold rim of the bottle, his phone rumbled in his hand as another text suddenly appeared in his inbox.

_Hiya Murdoc, Stu here.  
My address is 21 Hill Street (the one with the red door). Can't wait! :)_

With this text, Murdoc momentarily forgot about what was going to happen, what he had planned to do. All he saw was Stuart's name, Stuart's smile, his laugh; and that was it. Murdoc stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and screwed the lid onto the whiskey bottle before placing it back on the shelf. He then reached down and hauled the cardboard box into the bedroom, shoving it into a space below his bed. After doing so, with a look of determination, Murdoc hastily made his way towards the driver's seat of the Winnebago.

He was all too aware that he didn't have a lot of time. Hannibal was quick, and Murdoc needed to act fast if his plan was going to work. Murdoc forcefully turned the keys of the Winnie until he heard the satisfying rumble of the engine below him. He then wrenched the gear stick and accelerated out of the spot he had been parked in for the past three weeks, not even taking a moment to look back.

Murdoc blocked any thought of the possible consequences of what he was about to do out of his mind, as he drove recklessly past the bustling streets of Crawley. It was long over due that Murdoc took back control, reclaimed what was rightfully his; and this time, his plan was _not_ going to fall through.

Sod the deals that too often came to nothing, the pay checks that were never actually fulfilled..Sod working below a man that ever since Murdoc was a child, had only beaten and bullied him into submission, just like their dad had. Murdoc's lips curled into a smile as he turned a quick left, hearing the screech of the Winnebagos tires as they dragged across cement.

It was time for Murdoc to take back his life, and his starting point?

 

Stuart's house.

 

 

 

  
Stuart tried his utmost to forget what he had seen as he slowly got into Murdoc's bed and encased himself within the sheets. However, he couldn't help but lay there for a few moments, his eyes wide open, still feeling slightly rattled by it all. It was in that moment that he realised that the idea of questioning Murdoc about it was definitely not possible, at least not now. This was because with this discovery, a hoard of burning questions swirled in Stuart's mind. If the other man could keep this money a secret from him, what else was he hiding? How did he obtain it? Was Murdoc even who Stuart thought he was?

Murdoc had driven Stuart all this way, and Stuart couldn't risk angering the other man with revealing what he had unveiled, and the possibility of being left stranded in Cornwall or something honestly scared him. Instead, Stuart closed his eyes and tried to deter his focus, emptying his racing mind. And sure enough, after a few minutes, Stuart felt his subconscious take over as he drifted into a heavy slumber.

 

                     ***

 

Stuart awoke suddenly to the feeling of a hand nudging his shoulder, and he groaned as he turned slightly in bed, only opening his eyes when he heard Murdoc's voice coming from above him. "Stu, we're here mate", Murdoc said, his voice still gruff, but sounding surprisingly gentle. Stuart moaned before slowly sitting up in bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He then opened them to see Murdoc smiling down at him. "I've got to be honest, you look like you've been struck by lightning", the other man chuckled.

Stuart only huffed before he placed both hands in his hair and forcefully ruffled it, knowing he was prone to a severe case of bed hair. "You slept for _ages_.." Murdoc said as he walked towards the window to look out. "I got so bored, I nearly started talking to myself. Did you like the sheets?", Murdoc asked, turning to the younger man as he casually leant against the wall. Stuart smiled weakly as he peeled himself from the bed covers. "Yeah, they were nice Murdoc. I could easily sleep for another five hours on 'em", Stuart giggled to himself, feeling a little more awake as he placed both feet on the floor, slipping them back into his shoes before he slowly stood up.

"I knew you would like them. Egyptian silk, those are. One of my proudest possessions", Murdoc stated, watching Stuart walk towards the window beside him to see where they had parked. However, before Stuart got to look out of it, Murdoc pulled him away. "Uh-uh. You can't look out yet, it'll spoil the surprise. Come with me", Murdoc voiced as he dragged Stuart towards the door of the Winnie.

When Murdoc opened the side door and stepped out, leading Stuart behind him, the first thing the younger man noticed was the feeling of the brisk wind harshly tussling his hair. He leant into it, and his eyes widened when he saw the scenery that stretched out before him.

Murdoc had parked in a small lay-by, directly in front of the beach. It was the early afternoon, and the sky was overcast, consumed entirely by cloud like an unchanging, milky-grey canvas. However, to the younger man, the cream sand juxtaposed perfectly with its wispy grey clouds. The thick grass above the sand dunes whipped around in the wind, and the whole thing looked akin to a dream. Stuart couldn't remember the last time he had been to the beach, and when he breathed in, the subtle smell of salt water fell tantalisingly upon his senses.

Murdoc looked up at Stuart, the wind also playing with his black hair. "I've always thought that this is the most beautiful beach in the whole of the UK", Murdoc stated wistfully, before looking out at the scenery before them again. Stuart nodded slowly at this, placing his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Murdoc then looked around, suddenly noticing something behind them, which Stuart also reactively turned to. "Ah, there it is-", Murdoc voiced when he saw a gothic looking pub looming behind the empty road. The gold, rusted lettering above its door read 'The Fort Inn'. "That's the pub my dad would take us to", He noted, and Stuart picked up on the fact that the emotion behind Murdoc's words was fairly ambiguous.

"Looks..nice, Murdoc", Stuart hesitantly vocalised, his eyes flitting across the building, seeing the paint cracking away from the door and the rotting dead plants that lay in baskets either side of it. At this, Murdoc smirked, looking back at Stuart with a raised brow. "You don't have to lie, Stuart. It's a shit-hole. Look at it. I remember once waking up to a sodding rat staring me right in the face. That place is the very _opposite_ of nice".

"Alright, alright-", Stuart said with a smile, feeling relief washing over him. "Its disgusting. I just didn't want to upset you, that's all", he quickly admitted. Murdoc chuckled at this, in a low, knowing tone. "You really don't have to worry about upsetting me, Stu. I've been through so much shit, not a lot of people can do that to me nowadays", He voiced with a slight smirk, but Stuart saw through the smile.

So far on this journey, it had occurred to Stuart that Murdoc really wasn't the happiest of people. He put on a solid act, that's for sure, but now Stuart was getting increasingly frequent glimpses behind it, and it was captivatingly sombre. Stuart looked back out at the beach, and realised that he should probably try and lighten the mood, divert the other man's attention.  
  
"Want to take a walk?", Stuart suddenly asked Murdoc. Murdoc turned away from the pub, and nodded his agreement, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked beside Stuart towards the beach, the bases of their shoes meeting the soft sand as they stepped out of the lay-by. As they trudged through the sand towards the sea-front, Stuart started the conversation.

"So, what makes you happy then, Murdoc?", He asked hesitantly. Murdoc smirked as he took hold of the cigarette that had been held behind his ear, biting it between his teeth as he went to light it. "...Is this what we do now?", Murdoc voiced despite the cigarette he was biting on. "-We talk about our feelings together? Is this the point we're at?", Murdoc asked sarcastically as he lit the cigarette and placed the lighter back into the pocket of his jacket.  
  
Stuart scratched his head. "Erm.. I guess so. But if you really don't want to talk abou-", "Nah, i'll answer your question", Murdoc quickly interrupted, exhaling a cloud of smoke. The older man then took a long moment to think about it as they walked towards the sea. "..I don't know what makes me happy, I just know what makes me _feel like_ I'm happy", Murdoc began, a pensive look on his face. Stuart had never seen him so thoughtful.

"Okay.. Well, what is it?", Stuart asked, and Murdoc took another puff of his cigarette before he answered. "It isn't just one thing. More of a..collection", Murdoc began. "I know that my bass makes me happy. Good old El Diablo. Sold my soul to the devil just to feel the twang of those strings against my fingers, and it's still the best decision I ever made. Plays like a dream". While Murdoc was talking, the sound of the crashing waves grew gradually louder as they neared the sea-front.

"Alcohol makes me happy too. But I know that's a habit I need to break, drinking to forget and whatnot..", Murdoc's words trailed off for a moment, and Stuart turned to see that the older man was taking another puff of the cigarette he held between his two fingers. After he exhaled, the two of them found themselves at the sea-front, and stopped for a few moments to stand among the pebbles, looking out at the ocean stretching for miles before them.

The two men stood beside each other, and Murdoc didn't look away from the ocean as he spoke up once again, his tone quieter than before, more genuine. "And this. Being here, with you, Stuart. This makes me happy, but like.. _actually_ happy. Don't let this go to your head, Stu-", Murdoc began, a small smile on his lips "-but in the past few days with you, I think I've laughed more than I have in _years_ ".

At this, Stuart turned to Murdoc, and Murdoc met his gaze. They were noticeably close to each other at this point, closer than they had ever been before, and in response to what the other man had said, Stuart slowly closed the gap between them. The younger man then brought out his arms, encasing Murdoc in a tight embrace. This time, Murdoc hugged back without any reluctance, and they stayed there for a few moments, the wind tussling their hair, hearing nothing but the oceans rhythmic rise and fall behind them as they hugged.

Murdoc had dropped his cigarette in the process, but he didn't seem to mind, and Stuart released himself slightly from their embrace for a few moments to look to Murdoc as he spoke. "Really? ..You really mean that?", The younger man shakily asked. Murdoc grinned as he replied, still holding onto Stuart's back. "Of course I mean it, you nonce", He chuckled, and Stuart beamed at him. "Cos.. I was going to say the same thing about you", Stuart said, letting his voice lower to no louder than a mere whisper.

With that, Murdoc let his hands naturally fall lower on the other man's body, resting upon Stuart's waist. When Stuart reciprocated the intimacy by stepping slightly closer so they were face to face, Murdoc leant in, stopping when his lips delicately met Stuart's. When they finally kissed, Stuart forgot about the paranoia that the money had caused, the contempt his parents held for the man before him, he even momentarily forgot where they were. All he thought about was Murdoc, and he closed his eyes, exhaling into the kiss, feeling Murdoc's tongue softly meeting his.

Stuart brought up his arms so they were resting on Murdoc's shoulders, and Murdoc grunted as he kissed Stuart with increasing vigour. Although both men had failed repeatedly to admit it to themselves, they had been waiting and waiting for this moment to happen, and now that it actually was, it couldn't have felt more natural.

A few more moments passed, and Murdoc slowly relented, breaking away from the kiss and placing a hand in Stuart's hair to gently rub his thumb along the younger man's jawline, gazing into his eyes. Stuart had never kissed a man before, and he realised that if it wasn't for the fact that Murdoc was leading the two of them, he probably wouldn't have felt nearly as relaxed. They looked to each other in silence, not knowing exactly what to say, but also being all too aware that perhaps words couldn't quite sum up how they were feeling.

However, after a few moments, the sea crashed violently against the shore again, this time sending a torrent of water towards where the two of them were standing. Both men jumped when the sea water soaked their shoes, and Stuart quickly placed a hand in Murdoc's, pulling the older man away from the sea-front. "Shit!", Murdoc exclaimed between loud, unbridled laughter when they finally reached dryer sand, feeling the water that had filled his cuban heels soaking his feet. Stuart laughed with him, leaning in to clutch at the other man's leather jacket as he did so.

"Fuck you!", Murdoc shouted jokingly before sticking a middle finger up at the sea, and Stuart giggled even harder. When the younger man had gotten his breath back, he turned to Murdoc, still holding onto his hand. "We better go and dry off", he voiced, a toothy grin still lingering on his face, and Murdoc silently agreed.

 

  
At this very moment, back in the Winnebago, the phone rumbled violently against the dashboard. Missed call after missed call flashing upon its screen, and no one there to answer it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update in the next week. UPDATE. I've been writing and i've nearly done chapter 9. I thought i could get it done today, however i don't wanna rush and therefore it'll be out sometime within the next two days. Please don't hate me, i am just a uni student with resposibilities and work n stuff lol


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like smut, don't read this chapter.

As the sea breeze brushed violently by their ears and the soggy bases of their shoes collected sand while they walked, it was hard for Stuart to think about anything else but the fact that they’d finally done it; they’d kissed. The moment had flown by so quickly, the only affirmation that it had actually happened was the feeling of the warmth of Murdoc’s hand within his. Stuart felt his cheeks flush as his mind tried to grasp what had just happened between the two of them, and eventually that energy translated itself into a beaming smile that Stuart tried his utmost to conceal. However, Murdoc, who had been bending down slightly to adjust his sodden Cuban heels, suddenly rose up again and turned to notice the other man’s rosy cheeks on full display.

“What are you smiling about?” Murdoc asked with his usual snark, his tone teasing, but friendly. Stuart automatically looked away, but upon being noticed, let out a small laugh. “Nothing, Murdoc”, Stuart answered, but Murdoc wasn't satisfied with the other man’s ambiguous response. “If it’s nothing, why are you smiling like that? Was I a bad kisser or something?”, Murdoc inquired further. “No! No, of course you weren’t”, the younger man blurted, and Murdoc’s lips quickly curled into a smug smile, looking for Stuart to elaborate.

 “I was smiling cos..well, I didn’t expect you to be so good, you know? I didn’t think you could be that…gentle”, Stuart admitted, feeling a little exposed. At this, Murdoc let out a hearty laugh as they walked. “You took me for more of a ‘stick-my-tongue-down-your-throat’ type, eh?”, Murdoc voiced sarcastically. “Well I’ll have you know that I can be very gentle, when the person I’m snogging is someone I care about, that is”. Murdoc then looked to Stuart, squeezing the younger man’s hand even tighter.

Stuart reactively grasped Murdoc’s hand in the same affirming way, and the two of them walked together comfortably, talking every so often until they got back to the parked Winnebago. Murdoc then led the way in, swinging the door open and grunting as he immediately pulled off his shoes. The older man then plodded into the kitchen, salvaging a dirty tea towel before setting his shoes neatly upon it.

While Murdoc tended to his beloved shoes, Stuart had walked into the Winnie and sat at the edge of Murdoc’s bed, pulling off his shoes before beginning to peel off his sopping trousers. Stuart couldn’t help but momentarily look to the space that he had seen the box of money, but he didn’t dare look any closer. He decided to stuff that all to the back of his mind, because for now, he was happy; and that was all that mattered.

 When Stuart was in his boxers, he heard Murdoc enter the Winnebago, seemingly shuffling around in the kitchen area behind the partially closed door. Stuart leant down on the bed, resting on the headboard and placing his arms behind his head, sighing as he felt himself relax. “So..what shall we do for the rest of the day then, Murdoc?", Stuart voiced loudly, projecting so that Murdoc could hear him from the other room.

Murdoc seemingly placed something on the side before he answered, sounding occupied. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t have anything particular in mind. I usually just go to places and see where that takes me”, the older man explained over the sound of something beginning to boil. “Oh..” Stuart vocalised, before looking about him for any spark of inspiration. In the corner of the room, Stuart saw the faded red lines of a Pentagram, and above it was a shelf of worn looking books, half-heartedly shoved into a row. By the looks of it, most of them were about the Dark Arts, interspersed with the occasional book about Satanism or Aleister Crowley. Stuart was rendered completely distracted by this, getting up and walking over to the bookshelf in order to take a closer look, a curious expression on his face.

In the kitchen, Murdoc hummed as he poured the steaming beans he’d been preparing into two bowls. With a bowl in each hand, Murdoc then kicked the base of the door to his room, walking casually in when it swung open. “You better be hungry Stu, cos I made-”. Murdoc’s words trailed off when he saw Stuart standing in the middle of the pentagram he had painted, flicking through one of his oldest books.

Murdoc frowned, standing ominously still in the doorway. “You’re not supposed to be reading that. Put it back”, Murdoc stated bluntly, his voice startlingly lower than usual. Stuart looked up at Murdoc meekly, his finger still lingering on the edge of the next page. "But-", Stuart began hesitantly, however Murdoc instantly cut him off. “No ‘buts’. That stuff is _private._ Give it ‘ere”, the older man instructed, placing the two bowls on the bedside table before waking over to Stuart and snatching the book from his hands.

Stuart reactively huffed and walked back over to Murdoc’s bed, defeatedly sitting on it before looking up at Murdoc with wonder in his eyes. “Oh my god. Murdoc, can we.. summon something? That would be _so_ wicked”, he inquired, his eyes childishly wide. Murdoc rolled his eyes. “No”, he answered monosyllabically, before he turned to place the book back in the space Stuart had pulled it from.

“Oh come on! You summoned the devil just to give you a bass guitar! Surely we can-”. “I said no, Stu”, Murdoc interrupted. “At this point, I’m only a novice at the whole summoning malarkey. Last thing I want is you chanting something wrong and conjuring a flipping Succubus. And believe me, I’ve done it. Those things are _not_ as fun as I thought they would be”, he explained, before putting on another pair of Cuban heels he had salvaged, this time with a shining black finish.

Stuart sighed, and Murdoc turned to look for something in his wardrobe. A few moments later, Stuart felt a pair of jeans land on his lap. “These should fit you. Might be a bit baggy though, they used to be Hannibal’s”, Murdoc said, before he walked to the bedside table and handed the younger man a bowl of beans. The older man then exhaled as he sat down with his own on the bed next to him. “You’ll have to think of something else we can do”, Murdoc uttered before he shoved a heaped spoonful of beans into his mouth.

 Stuart looked down at the beans in his lap. It was almost funny, knowing that all the crashing of pots and pans in the kitchen earlier was to make a simple bowl of beans. The younger man began to eat while he thought about what the two of them could do together. Stuart couldn’t help but feel that Murdoc had given him so much, and he hadn’t yet done anything in return. He reasoned that perhaps it was time for him to surprise Murdoc for a change, the only problem was he had no idea how.

Murdoc interrupted Stuart’s thoughts, speaking through a full mouth beside him. “All I know is I could _really_ do with a drink”, he noted gruffly. Stuart smiled at the other man, and just before he went to take another spoonful, it hit him. All of a sudden, Stuart knew exactly what they should do, and he tried his utmost to devise somewhat of a plan as he wolfed down the rest of his beans.

“Woah, Stu. Are you in some kind of hurry?”, Murdoc asked, raising a brow as Stuart got up, swiftly pulling on the jeans before he went to take his empty bowl into the kitchen. “Nope. I've just had an idea”, the younger man responded hopefully, striding into the kitchen and shutting the door behind him, leaving a confused looking Murdoc alone in his room. Stuart smiled as he thought about what he was going to do, walking quickly through the small kitchen to the driver’s seat of the Winnebago.

As he sat down and pulled out his phone from his jeans, Murdoc strode in, holding onto his bowl. “Uh uh, let’s stop this right here. Look, this is starting to get annoying. I know we have a ‘thing’ and all, but that doesn’t mean you can get your hands on everything I own. Now budge”, Murdoc demanded, gesturing for Stuart to move. Stuart, after finding what he had been searching for on his phone, placed it on the dashboard and jokingly stretched in the driver’s seat, getting even more relaxed, and Murdoc practically growled.

“Loosen up a bit, Murdoc. I want to drive us somewhere, isn’t it about time that I get to surprise you?”, Stuart insisted, and Murdoc huffed, angrily digging another spoonful of beans. Stuart took the other man’s silence for a clear, albeit reluctant yes, and beamed as he turned back to grasp the steering wheel like an elated child. “I didn’t sign up for this…”, Murdoc grumbled under his breath before shoveling the beans into his mouth, and Stuart laughed as he familiarized himself with the Winnebagos controls.

“Come on Muds, stop being all _Han Solo_ about it. You’ll like this surprise, I promise. Now could you hand me the keys?”. Murdoc pointed to the leather jacket that he had left hanging over the back of the driver’s seat. “They’re in that pocket”, he stated, and Stuart quickly salvaged them and placed them in the Winnebago, letting out an excited “oooo” as he felt the car rumble below him. Murdoc finished his food, quickly placing the empty bowl in the kitchen before he grumpily sat on the passenger seat, folding his arms.

“Mark my words, Stu. If you crash this thing, or even get _one scratch_ on it.. they’ll be trouble”, Murdoc warned, just before Stuart, who was highly amused at this point, turned on the radio full blast and accelerated out of the layby, sending them hurtling down the road. Not even Murdoc was expecting Stuart to drive at such a speed, and the older man hastily reached for his seat belt.

“I never thought I’d actually say this, but this is too bloody fast Stu! One scratch. Remember?!”, the older man shouted over the radio. Stuart giggled, turning momentarily to see the nervous look on Murdoc’s face. “Are you.. _scared_ , Murdoc?”, Stuart asked through a cheeky grin, looking back to the road and slowing down a little. Murdoc ran a hand through his hair, leaving a beat of silence before he answered, looking out of the side window. “...No. I’m not scared. You’re just driving like a flipping maniac”, He retorted.

Stuart looked to Murdoc again, and couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Murdoc certainly wasn’t as tough as he wanted everyone to believe he was, and it was extremely funny to see this side of him reveal itself. However, Stuart drove at a normal speed until he knew he was getting close to the destination. Throughout the short journey, Murdoc stared outside, furrowing his brows at the scenery passing by.

The village seemed to melt away in exchange for a view of plentiful rolling, grassy fields, juxtaposed with the constancy of the calm sea glistening far behind. To the older man, it looked like they were driving into nowhere. Just before he was about to ask Stuart about it however, the younger man spoke up. “Ah-”, Stuart vocalised. “It should be around here now. Murdoc, close your eyes”, he quickly instructed.

Murdoc loudly huffed in discontent before slowly covering his eyes, and Stuart leaned foreword in the driver’s seat, looking around carefully for a sign. As soon as he saw an indication of where to go, he yanked at the steering wheel, turning into the car park and parking up. Murdoc heard the Winnebago slow to a halt, and reactively went to uncover his eyes. “Don’t even think about it, you”, Stuart warned jokingly, and Murdoc relented.

Stuart then got out of the Winnebago, walking around to the side door in order to let Murdoc out. When he opened it, Stuart leant foreword and took hold of Murdoc’s hand to lead him outside, nearly giggling at the way in which the tables had turned. When Murdoc stepped out, he began to fidget impatiently as Stuart repositioned himself beside him. “Come on, Stu. Let’s hurry this along”, he uttered, and Stuart, who had been proudly surveying his surroundings, finally gave him the go ahead. “Okay, you can look now”, Stuart voiced, and Murdoc released his grasp, letting his arms fall to his sides.

“…Oh”, Murdoc vocalised, staring at the golf course that stretched out before him. Stuart had parked near the clubhouse, and the older man blinked at the golfers on the hills playing and the karts buzzing by them. Stuart grinned. “So? What do you think? You were going on and on about how much you loved golf at my house, so I thought this would be right up your street”, the younger man declared, looking to Murdoc excitedly.

Murdoc scratched his head, averting eye contact with the other man, and Stuart couldn’t help but feel like the whole thing had been extremely anti-climactic; going by Murdoc’s lack of enthusiasm. “What is it?”, Stuart asked, his smile beginning to dissipate. “Erm…Stu?”, Murdoc tentatively began, and Stuart nodded. “You know I was lying, right? ..About the whole golf thing. It was just so your parents thought we had a reason to go to Newquay, mate”, he admitted, trying his utmost to put it lightly. Stuart furrowed his brows. “But what about when you said you would go and play golf after a night out with your mates?”, the younger man inquired curiously, a little crestfallen.

“Ah, now _that_ was true. Really, the best way to tell a lie is to tell a half-truth. I did used to play golf, but I usually _hate_ the game. My old band mates would drag me along to their golf sessions and I would moan the entire time, so eventually they shut me up with alcohol, and trust me, golf is _so_ much better when you’re pissed”, Murdoc explained amusedly. Stuart didn’t want to admit it, but he was a little upset at all this. Here he was, trying his best to do something for Murdoc for a change, and he still couldn’t get it right.

Murdoc saw that Stuart wasn’t happy, and quickly spoke up again, opting to quickly change his tack. “Alright, alright. Don’t give me that face. I’ll try it out”, he told Stuart, before he started walking towards the entrance of the golf course. Stuart watched Murdoc for a few moments as he walked away, and suddenly felt a little spark of hope rise up within him. Although he now knew that Murdoc wasn’t exactly going to love it, Stuart could see that the older man was trying-and he was trying for _him._

Stuart followed behind Murdoc, and eventually they got a golf club, a tee and a pack of golf balls each from a stand near the entrance. Murdoc then walked a little further until he was stood atop a small hill, and narrowed his eyes as he looked out at the landscape before him. Stuart joined him, standing a few steps back to watch. Murdoc let out a satisfied grunt when he had settled on a target, and quickly placed down the tee and set the golf ball upon it.

He then waited a few moments, and Stuart craned his head behind him, trying to decipher what the older man was aiming for. Murdoc bent a little, keeping his eyes on the target, before he then hit the ball with surprising force, sending it hurtling metres into the air. Stuart watched it go, and it seemed to be heading towards the base of the hill, where a pair of older men were playing. What Murdoc had done had only began to click in his head when Stuart saw Murdoc’s golf ball knock one of the men’s balls off course, sending it spinning away from the hole it was about to enter.

“Leg it!”, Murdoc shouted with a toothy grin on his face, before he hastily ran down the other side of the hill towards a nearby building, well out of view of the two men. Stuart hesitated, looking down to see both men staring up at him, their anger excruciatingly evident. Caught like a deer in the headlights, Stuart scratched the back of his head, opting to shout a meek “Sorry!” before he ran to where Murdoc had hidden.

As Stuart neared the other man, he saw that Murdoc had his back turned, and was looking at a poster stuck onto the wall of the building before him. “What are you playing at, Murdoc?!”, Stuart voiced between sharp breaths as he slowed to a stop near him. “If you’re that bored, let’s just go back to the beach”, he said, trying to get Murdoc’s attention. Murdoc didn’t look to Stuart, and so responsively, the younger man stared over Murdoc’s shoulder to see what he was observing so intently.

Murdoc seemed to be reading a poster for an event on that night, and in the brief moment that Stuart read it, it appeared to be some kind of karaoke party at the golf club. Murdoc turned to the younger man and pointed at the poster. “This. Let’s go to this”, he voiced, and Stuart raised an eyebrow. “You do know it’s just gonna be old people, right Murdoc? Like, it won’t be whatever kind of party you’re used to”, he explained, but Murdoc simply shrugged.“I’m not really bothered, to be honest. As long as we get hammered, I don’t see why not”. Stuart crossed his arms, giving the older man a smirk. “Well, we better start drinking then..It starts at seven. Shall we go find a pub nearby?”, he proposed, and Murdoc instantly smiled back. “You just read my mind”, he answered, a knowing smile on his lips.

 In typical English fashion, they didn’t have to walk far before the two men happened upon a pub. It was an older one, with low hanging dark wooden beams and white walls. The place was busy, and Murdoc and Stuart had found themselves a small table near the bar. A fireplace burned not far from them, and the age of the place was evident in the thick must that met their senses with every breath.

“And _that_ -”, Murdoc said, drunkenly slurring his words as he slammed the bottle of whiskey he held onto the table. “-is why I paint my little finger-nail red. Now, you have to know that’s a closely guarded secret, Stu”. Murdoc leaned into Stuart, so they were almost face-to-face. “So you better not tell another soul. You got it?”, he whispered. Stuart nodded lazily, a childish grin on his face as he placed a hand on Murdoc’s arm, that was resting on the table before them. “Of course I won’t tell, Murdoc. You got any more stories? They’re h-hilarious”, Stuart asked before taking another long swig of his beer.

Murdoc leaned back on his chair, nonchalantly placing his Cuban heels on the table. The older man thought for a moment, staring into space before he suddenly locked eyes with Stuart again, a devilish smile painted across his face. “Hah. Alright, alright. I’ll tell you _one_ more”, Murdoc said. “My brother, right? He’s always been a real rocker, especially when we were kids. Black Sabbath, Judas Priest.. you name it, he’d listened to it. He was always calling me a sodding greabo, so one night, I thought I’d get him back…”.

Stuart almost jumped in his chair, bringing his hands to his face in delight. “What did you do to him?!”, the younger man blurted with a grin, teased by Murdoc’s pause. Murdoc instinctively lowered his voice. “Well, from the times that I was able to catch a glimpse into his bombsite of a room, I knew he had this huge pile of all his favourite metal records. And one night, when he was out, I swapped all of them for Marvin Gaye LPs. Every. Single. One. Made it look like nothing had changed”. Murdoc tried to stifle a laugh, and Stuart began to giggle, still enraptured with the older man’s story.

“When he found out, all I heard was him screaming in his room, going on and on about how much he was gonna kill me over the sound of ‘Let’s get it ooon’, and honestly, it was the best fucking thing I think I’ve ever done”. Both men erupted into laughter, and Stuart fell foreword onto the table clumsily as he giggled. “Oh my god, Murdoc”, the younger man voiced after a few moments, wiping away tears from his eyes.

“That is _brilliant._ You haven’t changed since then, have you? You’re always up to something”. Murdoc took another swig of his whiskey, and leaned in closer to the other man. “Not one bit”, he uttered, before leaning even closer and kissing Stuart sloppily from across the table. Stuart, who was extremely drunk at this point, grunted into the kiss, exhaling heavily through his nose as Murdoc’s tongue met his.

Murdoc placed his hand at the back of Stuart’s neck, his finger tips digging into Stuart’s hair as the kiss got more and more heated. When Murdoc let out a soft moan, Stuart came to for just a moment, breaking from the kiss when his clouded mind realised the public setting they were in. Some of the people around them were staring, and one man even voiced a gruff “Get a room” from near the bar.

Murdoc instantly turned to the man, his movements made clumsy by his drunkenness. “Oh fack off, you!”, he shouted, before looking back at Stuart, their eyes locking as he confidently placed a hand on Stuart’s upper thigh under the table. “You know what, sod the karaoke. What do you say about just going straight back to the Winnebago?”, he proposed, his voice hushed. Stuart nodded, and spurred by the feeling of Murdoc’s hand squeezing near his groin, hastily finished the rest of his drink.

Hand in hand, the two of them left the warmth of the pub, stepping into the chill night. However, the drunkenness helped to blanket them from the nipping breeze, and Stuart took a moment to stare up at the clear night sky, basking in the moon’s glow. He then looked to Murdoc, who little to the younger man’s knowledge, had been gazing at him the whole time. It was a short walk back to the Winnebago, but it couldn’t have been more blissful.

They kissed a few more times during that walk, but when they got to the Winnebago and Murdoc had shut the door behind them, Stuart wasn’t expecting to feel the older man’s hand suddenly press at the centre of his chest. Stuart looked up at Murdoc, a tantalizing vulnerability in his eyes that made Murdoc’s trousers tighten around his groin. Stuart allowed Murdoc to slowly guide him towards the bed, and he lay back on it, the older man resting on top of him and straddling his legs.

Stuart stared up at Murdoc, trying to savour the moment. The room was dark, but gaps between the sloppily closed curtains allowed shards of moonlight in, highlighting the angles of Murdoc’s face. The older man’s black hair had fallen slightly across his face, giving him a disheveled appearance, and the sight of him coupled with the feeling of Murdoc’s clothed groin resting above his was more than enough to enflame him.

Murdoc smiled at the feeling of Stuart hardening underneath him, and responded slowly, teasingly shifting downwards on the bed and angling his head so it was just above Stuart’s crotch. Stuart leaned foreword a little, propping himself on his elbows as he watched Murdoc unzip his trousers, pulling them down a little before the younger man helped to pull them all the way off.

When Murdoc caught sight of Stuart’s semi-hard dick, he licked his lips, bringing out a hand to gently palm at the younger man’s bulge. Stuart gasped at the other man’s touch, and couldn’t help but throw his head back, his breaths uneven as Murdoc rubbed at the outline of his cock through his boxers. Soon enough, Stuart was fully hard, almost bursting for more, feeling the pre-cum seep from the tip of his dick. Before Murdoc went any further though, the older man leant foreword a little, close enough to whisper into Stuart’s ear. “Take your top off”, he voiced, and Stuart almost shivered at the feeling of Murdoc’s lips momentarily meeting the  shell of his ear, the hot breath on his neck. Stuart responded quickly, yanking off his T-shirt before ushering Murdoc to take off his.

Then, the now bare-chested older man settled back down next to Stuart’s crotch and thumbed teasingly with the elastic band holding up the younger man’s boxers. Murdoc locked eyes with Stuart, his black hair casting a shadow upon his face. “You ever had a man blow you before?”, he asked, rubbing Stuart’s dick again. Stuart gasped, his eyes fluttering closed for a second. “N-No, Murdoc”, he answered, barely able to speak.

Murdoc smiled, before he lowered Stuart’s boxers and took hold of his throbbing length. “Well, I’ll show you how it’s _actually_ done”, he uttered, and Stuart moaned as he felt Murdoc’s warm mouth encase his dick entirely. Murdoc held his mouth there until he gagged a little, moving his tongue up and down Stuart’s length as he did so. Stuart leaned forewords even more, digging his fingertips into the silk sheets as he felt the back of Murdoc’s throat meet the head of his dick. It was almost overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but curse at the sensation.

“Fuuuck”, Stuart groaned as he saw Murdoc beginning to bob up and down, the older man taking hold of either side of Stuart’s thighs to stabilize himself as he did so. Murdoc then slowed down a little, taking a moment to lick the head as he locked eyes with Stuart from below. When he then brought up a hand to palm Stuart’s balls as he suddenly picked up the pace, the younger man fell back onto the bed, unable to hold himself up any longer as the pleasure consumed him. He lay down, surrendering completely to Murdoc, and the older man watched Stuart lying there for a few moments before the clothes that still encased his lower body felt almost unbearable. 

Stuart gasped as he felt Murdoc’s mouth leave his dick, and he looked up to see the older man hastily pulling off the rest of his clothes. Stuart eventually composed himself enough to lean foreword and help Murdoc take off his boxers, before he began to vigorously stroke Murdoc’s throbbing dick. Murdoc wasn’t expecting this, and he grunted at the feeling of Stuart’s warm hands moving up and down his length. Murdoc couldn’t help but lean into the younger man once again from above, kissing him sloppily, which Stuart gladly reciprocated. Soon enough, when Murdoc was nearing the edge, Stuart broke away from him and turned so he was on all fours on the bed, angling himself so his entrance was near Murdoc’s groin.

“Give it to me Murdoc”, Stuart managed to voice between his hastily taken breaths, and Murdoc chuckled. “Uh uh. This really _is_ your first time, isn’t it? There’s just one more thing I need to do”, the older man responded, his voice noticeably lower than usual. Stuart groaned needily, listening to the sound of Murdoc reaching for something on the bedside table.

 Stuart then heard the cap of a bottle open, and turned to see Murdoc coating his hands with lube. The older man then rubbed at Stuart’s entrance, and Stuart’s breaths naturally slowed as he relaxed into the new sensation. Murdoc started with one finger, entering Stuart slowly, relishing in the sounds the younger man was making at the contact. When he felt Stuart was ready, Murdoc then re-entered with two fingers, making an extra effort to be as delicate as possible.

However, Murdoc’s carefulness was proving too much for Stuart, who gripped tightly at the sheets below him before speaking up between his gasps. “More, Murdoc! I need m-moore”, He moaned, and Murdoc relented for a few moments. The older man smirked. “Alright then”, he mumbled, getting the lube and coating his hands once more before pumping his member a few times. After fully preparing himself, Murdoc leaned foreword so he was on top of Stuart, and sensually nibbled at the younger man’s ear. “I’ll go slow”, he uttered, before he entered Stuart slowly with his cock. Stuart moaned even louder, and Murdoc used Stuart’s moans of pleasure to guide his movements. 

Eventually, Murdoc was all the way inside the younger man, and he exhaled at the feeling of Stuart’s warmth around his dick. He then slowly relented, before re-entering the younger man, a little quicker this time. He kept doing this at a quicker and quicker pace, and soon enough, by the sounds that the younger man was making below him, Murdoc knew he could thrust with even more vigour.

Stuart had never felt this much pleasure before, and he didn’t want it to stop. However, the sounds that Murdoc was making above him, coupled with the sensation of Murdoc beginning to rapidly pump his dick as he thrust into him was sending him over the edge. Stuart’s arms gave way as he came, his face among the silk sheets, stifling his unabashed wail of pleasure. Murdoc pumped Stuart slowly as the younger man rode out his orgasm, and the older man came not long after into Stuart’s pulsating hole.

 Murdoc then collapsed, joining Stuart on the bed, and the younger man responsively lay fully down, angling himself so they were face to face. Murdoc’s eyes flitted across every detail of Stuart’s face. He took in the younger man’s pale skin, that was glistening perfectly with sweat. He then noticed the way his bedraggled blue hair fell beautifully across his face, before eventually, the older man’s gaze settled on his lips.

Murdoc brought up a hand to caress the younger man’s cheek, and Stuart leaned in to kiss Murdoc once more. However, this kiss was different. They both were still drunk, but it felt so _natural_. Like a dream they had finally lived out, a moment they were always destined to share. When Stuart broke away from the kiss, he watched Murdoc for a few moments with wide, innocent eyes. “Come ‘ere, you”, Murdoc said, ushering Stuart to fill the small gap between them. Stuart quickly shuffled up, leaning his head on Murdoc’s bare chest before the older man responsively flattened on the bed, casually bringing his arms behind his head as he relaxed into the pillow.

Stuart listened to the sound of Murdoc’s heart beat, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of Murdoc’s breathing, and he allowed his eyes to drift closed. Nothing needed to be said. Both the feeling of the warmth of their bodies connecting and the sound of their breaths slowly mingling into one acted as their words, and they both felt their drunkenness softly lulling them into a heavy, yet unimaginably peaceful slumber.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this one! i had a slump week but i'm soo glad i'm motivated again. Next chapter soon, hopefully in the next week but idk cos of resposibilities and stuff. Check my tumblr for updates.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:
> 
> Mention of Panic attacks  
> Homophobic language

The rain pattered softly against the Winnebagos roof, and Stuart lazily opened an eye to stare at the water running in streams down the window in the far corner. It was morning, but he couldn't tell what time. He didn't need to know what time it was, all he could really concentrate on was the feeling of Murdoc's hair brushing against his chest as the older man slept, his hand clutching Stuart's waist.

Stuart exhaled and squeezed Murdoc tighter below him, feeling their legs intertwine as he held the older man lovingly. The warmth of their bodies combining was blissful, and each breath that Murdoc took eventually fell gently across the surface of Stuart's bare neck. Even though he was awake, Stuart didn't dare disturb the man laying on top of him. Instead, he snook glances at Murdoc every now and again while he lay peacefully, relishing in the knowing that last night had actually happened. It wasn't just a dream.

Stuart had to constantly remind himself that these past few days were indeed real. It had all been so quick, so emotional...it almost felt like none of it was based in reality. Like one day, Stuart will wake up once again to his normal life, and go back to his normal job and Murdoc was all a figment of his imagination. A man at the forefront of his dreams. Nothing could have prepared Stuart for these past few days, and yet this fact gladdened him. Why would he have wanted any type of warning? Sometimes the best things happen when you leave it up to happenstance.

Although, Stuart's mind was not totally clouded by this experience. He still remembered the sight of the copious amount of money that still lies underneath Murdoc's bed. The thought of it just lingered there, wrapped up in the recesses of his thoughts. It had been pushed back, but Stuart knew that the subject needed to bubble to the surface soon. He wasn't good with words, he's never been. But somehow, Stuart was going to have to ask Murdoc about it eventually. He felt his cheeks flush at the thought of it. Now _that_ was something that foresight couldn't prepare him for, and the paranoia of what may happen when everything is eventually unearthed lay dormant, festering in his subconscious.

Stuart tried to direct his thoughts back to where they were, right now. Because this moment was bliss, and the thought of what was to come for the two of them could wait just that bit longer, long enough for them to just _be_. Stuart's eyes were about to slip shut once again, but before he relaxed completely, he heard a loud knock at the door of the Winnebago. Stuart's eyes instantly flickered to the front door, which he could see through the open entrance to the kitchen, and it's frame shook when whoever was behind it rapped their knuckles on its surface once again.

Stuart heard Murdoc grumble as he began to stir on top of him, and seeing that Murdoc was in no state to answer the door, he decided to open it for him. Stuart gently pushed Murdoc off of his chest, resting him on the bed, before he slipped out of the warmth of the silk sheets and stood up slowly beside it. He then rubbed his eyes, pulled on a pair of boxers from the floor and made for the door, blinking through slightly blurred vision as the heaviness of sleep and the first hints of a slight hangover slowed his movements.

Stuart dragged a hand over his face as he neared the door, before he then clumsily placed it on the door knob and nonchalantly turned it, wincing slightly at the morning light that escaped the gap and fell upon his face. Before him stood two men. One was stocky, yet about a foot smaller in stature to Stuart, and the other was around the same height as him, and stood confidently in the foreground, staring at Stuart with piercing ice blue eyes. Stuart instinctively furrowed his brows, feeling a little too exposed as he stood in his boxers, his toes curling into the Winnebagos carpet.

"Err... Hello?", Stuart said, his voice croaky and grating. He hadn't even noticed his throat hurt until now, and he suddenly realised with great reluctance that he had _definitely_ drank way more than he usually does last night. "Mornin'", the tall man responded, with an accent not too dissimilar to Stuart's. Stuart forced a small smile, his vision still blurry, before he then took a glance at the man in the background. The stocky man slowly folded his arms, his brows were thick, and hung low upon his face. When Stuart's eyes flickered back to the man in front, he saw that the man had proceeded to lean on the frame of the door, getting somewhat closer, perhaps uncomfortably so.

The rain had calmed down now, and although it still drummed lightly on the Winnebagos roof, it was nothing more than a melancholic drizzle. The sea breeze played with the tall man's grey-blonde hair as he spoke up. "Is Murdoc Niccals in?", he asked, his voice low and gravelly. Stuart scratched his head and turned momentarily to see if Murdoc was awake. However, the kitchen door was mostly closed at this point, and Stuart couldn't see into the bedroom. He looked back at the man, an innocent confusion on his face. When Stuart caught sight of a white van parked up adjacent to them, it suddenly clicked in his clouded mind.

"I don't think Murdoc was expecting a delivery today...", He finally uttered. At Stuart's words, the man in the background smiled mockingly, unfolding his arms to place them casually in the pockets of his puffer jacket. The man that Stuart was addressing tried his utmost to contain his amusement, leaving a beat of stunned silence before he said anything more. Stuart was much younger than the two of them, and they hadn't expected to be dealing with this level of dimwittedness, at least not in their line of work. This was going to be easy.

"Ah, well we have a parcel for him, you see", the man with blue eyes said, feigning a look of concern. Stuart did catch on to the fact that he was being patronised, but he was confused as to why. Perhaps this was something that Murdoc himself should deal with, he reasoned. "I can get him for you if you want", Stuart suggested, and the two men nodded eagerly. Stuart then turned, deciding to leave the front door open as he stepped back into the Winnebago.

Suddenly Stuart felt an arm clamp down around his neck from behind. The grip was like a vice, and he immediately lost his footing. Time seemed to slow down, and he had barely had time to process what was happening before he was dragged outside of the Winnebago, clawing at the arm that held him, desperately screaming Murdoc's name.

However, his screams fell upon death ears, and he gasped for air when the man's grip tightened every time he struggled. The taller man had him in an inescapable chokehold, and Stuart's panicked breaths were short and hitched. He clenched his fists, but there was no fight in him. He knew he didn't stand a chance, not like this. His eyes slipped closed, and he thought about the possibility of dying here, at the hands of these two strangers.

He thought about his parents.

His attacker noticed that Stuart was weak, and sniggered as he pushed the younger man to his knees before him. Stuart grunted when he felt his knees scuff violently across the ragged cement surface of the carpark, and he instinctively brought out his arms to stop him from banging his head. He spluttered helplessly for a few moments, feeling his neck throbbing, realising how dry his mouth was. When he had regained enough strength to look up, Stuart saw the stocky man step slowly into his field of vision. He was intimidatingly silhouetted, and Stuart's panicked gaze instantly flickered towards the man's clenched fists.

"So what do you say we do to him?", Stuart heard the man behind him say. The stocky man smiled at his friend's words and stepped a little closer, eying Stuart up. Stuart was trembling, and his bare skin pricked with goose bumps. He broke eye contact with the man before him, trying to mentally dissociate.

_Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here._

It was the feeling of the man's hot breath falling on his body that roused him, and Stuart didn't have time to react before a hand gripped his hair and pulled his head up. The man before him snarled. "I think you know what I want to do", he uttered. Stuart caught sight of the man's right knuckle flashing white and he braced himself. His body tensed and his eyes pricked with tears. He was completely unaware of any kind of vocalisation he made after this point, but he knew somewhere deep down that he would be screaming for Murdoc. Where was he? Why was this happeni-

The man's fist connected with the side of Stuart's face and his ears rang. Everything flashed white and the pain was dizzying. He fell to the floor, clutching his throbbing cheek, and the men laughed as Stuart screamed with pain before them. "You hear that, Murdoc?", one of them shouted at the Winnebago. "Come out! I'm tellin' you now, that's just the _beginning_ mate".

Stuart wasn't really aware of much from that point on. All he could feel was pain. Stinging, overwhelming pain.

As Stuart felt the beginnings of a panic attack slowly consume him, the Winnebago rattled and the two men turned to the sound. Murdoc stood in the doorway. He was wearing only boxers and gripping a baseball bat, a look of pure fury on his face. "Get away from him", Murdoc demanded, his tone cold, stressing each word like he was holding back a storm behind gritted teeth.

The larger man glared at Murdoc, and in a gesture of defiance, once again gripped Stuart's head by his hair. He swiftly pulled the younger man to his feet before then holding Stuart by the neck. "You know what we want", the man said, spittle falling from his mouth, grazing Stuart's ear. Stuart flinched as the man spoke. "I won't hurt him anymore if you give us the money. Now".

Murdoc furrowed his brows, momentarily looking beyond the two men before locking eyes with the stocky man once more. "Where is he then?", Murdoc inquired. "Is he getting you low-lives to do his dirty work for him?". The two men didn't respond, but that was enough of an answer. Murdoc tutted. "...Typical". With that, Murdoc dove down from the Winnie and swung at the attacker's arm with immense force. He was so quick that the man stumbled back, clutching where Murdoc had hit him.

Stuart inhaled as soon as he felt the man's grip around his neck release, and he stumbled towards the door of the Winnebago, his legs shaking. He didn't pay attention to what was happening behind him, because right now he needed to call someone-the police, his parents. Anyone. He looked to the golf course to see if any people were around, but he saw no one. Every part of him was screaming, telling him to just _do_ something. However, Stuart collapsed on the metal step to the Winnebago. He had always been prone to panic attacks, and this one had engulfed him quicker than ever before. His heart drummed in his chest and his breaths were shallow and strained. The earth seemed to be closing up around him, and he surrendered.

Murdoc slowly walked towards the stocky man, his knuckles clenching around the baseball bat. The taller man had scattered by this point, seemingly after seeing Murdoc hit his accomplice with such brutality. They weren't expecting that, not from Hannibal's weedy little brother.

The rain was a mere dribble at this point, and it fell softly onto Murdoc's face, rolling off his features, beading in his wiry black hair. When Murdoc was intimidatingly close to the other man, he reached for his shirt collar and pulled the whimpering man towards him, his lips curling into an amused snarl. He knew he had the upper hand in this, so he let the baseball bat fall to the floor, using both his hands to hold the man before him steadily.

The man wriggled under Murdoc's grasp, but to no avail. Murdoc leaned closer until they were face to face, until he could hear the other man's panicked breathing. "I've asked you this once, and now I'll ask you again", he uttered, lowering his voice to a growl. "Where is he?". Murdoc let silence fall after that, and his dark eyes flickered to every part of the other man's face, studying him like a book he knew all too well. He knew these types; the thugs that Hannibal surrounded himself with. They were all the same to him, and he knew from experience that beneath the surface they were nearly always wimps. It would be a stretch to assume the two men had even one brain cell between them.

The man quickly turned his head away, but Murdoc fought to maintain eye contact, yanking him by the shirt collar. When the man's reluctant gaze once again met Murdoc's, the bassist suddenly noticed the man look behind him, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Murdoc furrowed his brows, shaking the man once more. This was _really_ testing his patience. "Just bloody focus for god's sake! Where is my sodding brother you tosser!". Murdoc balled his fist once more when he saw the other man was still distracted, but before he could do anything else an arm slinked around his neck before pulling him back so hard he gagged.

The stocky man stumbled unsteadily after he felt himself released from the bassist's grasp. When he had steadied himself he looked up, and soon enough, watching Murdoc struggle to fight back his accomplice's strong chokehold brought out a smile on his lips. "Get the fuck off me!", Murdoc shouted, clawing at the man's arm. "I don't need to deal with you bastards!". When the man's grip tightened even more, Murdoc hissed before looking to the looming van parked nearby. The windows were blacked out, but he knew he would be in there.

"Are you enjoying this?", Murdoc yelled towards the van, his voice strained, practically boiling with anger. "I bet this makes you _really_ happy, doesn't it Hannibal? Seeing me loosing. Why don't you just come out here yourself and finish off the job, you twat!". His words were cut off when the man tightened his grip even more, digging into Murdoc's oesophagus, and the bassist grunted. "Alright, alright. Stop with the squeezing will you?" he muttered when he was able to speak again, letting his arms fall to his sides defeatedly.

Murdoc's facial expression spoke a thousand words. He hated having to surrender like this, in front of his brother of all people. It was humiliating. If the thought of Stuart hadn't entered his mind at just that moment, he probably would have stayed still. However, the bassist craned his neck, trying to see where the younger man had gone, but his captor didn't let him see behind them. Murdoc felt his body prick with anxiety. What had they done to him? All he needed was a sign; just one sign so he knew that Stuart was okay.

But then he heard the van door open and shut again.

He heard him before he saw him. Those big, clunking steps coming from behind the van. A sound that was all too familiar, but never failed to capture his attention. It was the same sound Murdoc would hear all those years ago when his father slowly walked down their hallway towards his room to beat him. The sound of impending doom, an easily missed warning sign. Murdoc had been surrounded by morally questionable people his whole life, and he always found that the scariest ones were those that appeared the calmest; because in his experience, they never failed to be the ones that inflicted the most damage.

A few more footsteps were heard before Hannibal appeared beside the van, and Murdoc's jaw instinctively clenched at the sight of him. To think that they had been partners once was almost surreal at this point. Now, just seeing him made Murdoc's skin crawl. No words needed to be said, and even Murdoc remained quiet, his dark eyes peaking just below his fringe, flitting to every part of his brother as the looming man proceeded towards him. Hannibal's expression was placid, almost unreadable to anyone who didn't know him quite like Murdoc did.

Murdoc noticed as he got closer that beneath the intimidating exterior, his brother looked _tired_. The five o'clock shadow that lined his jaw and mouth and the darkness that surrounded his eyes betrayed him. He kept his mouth well and truly shut though, entertaining the idea of Hannibal initiating something for once. And his brother did not disappoint.  
  
"You're a sentimental little fucker, aren't you Murdoc?", Hannibal voiced as he walked, rolling up the sleeves of his thick jacket. His tone was lower than usual, and Hannibal was never one to talk loudly, if at all. Murdoc remained defiant, glaring at his brother with nothing but hatred in his eyes. So focussed he had even forgotten that he was restrained. Hannibal smirked at the lack of response, deciding to continue. "Of all the places you could have chosen, you chose here. Newquay. Where dad used to take us-".

Hannibal stepped into Murdoc's vicinity, towering over him as he always did. Murdoc was practically fuming at how small he felt in that moment, like he had suddenly fallen prey to a Goliath. Hannibal folded his arms, getting that bit closer, and Murdoc fought the urge to spit in his face. "They were just a few shit holidays, Nerdoc. Nothing special. I bet you see them as the highlight of your sorry little life, don't you?". Murdoc didn't respond. "Well tell me Murdoc-", Hannibal continued. Murdoc had never heard him speak this much.

"Do you remember when dad beat you up because I told him you scratched the car? Do you remember the black eye you had after that? All those bruises on your chest?". Murdoc glared up at his brother, his eyes glinting with tears. He was mocking him. Directly, unashamedly mocking him. He knew then that he wouldn't be able to stand this much longer. However, he stuffed the multitude of responses that screamed to be vocalised down within him, and Hannibal noticed. Of course he did.

"..Not much of a loud-mouth now, are you? Now my boys have finally put you in you're place"' he uttered, looking amused. It made Murdoc feel sick. "Well there is one thing I've been meaning to do for a _long_ time-", he said, balling his fist. Murdoc didn't have time to react before Hannibal had punched him square in the face. The impact was like an anvil, and his whole face erupted with pain. Murdoc's head lowered, and the metallic taste of his own blood seeping from his split lower lip spread across his tongue. However, to his brother's surprise, Murdoc still said nothing.

Hannibal contracted and then relaxed his fist, inspecting it for any damage. That punch was harder than he would usually dish out, but for all that he had done, Murdoc deserved it. He let a few moments pass before he spoke up, allowing time for the pain to really set in. "Just in case you ever thought you could steal from me again, you runt", he spat, his lower lip curling in disgust as he looked down at Murdoc. Murdoc still just hung his head, his black fringe obscuring his eyes, robbing Hannibal of the satisfaction of seeing the look on his pathetic little brother's face.

But then, Murdoc let out what seemed like a small grunt. A sound that could easily have been missed if Hannibal wasn't so close to him. Hannibal furrowed his brows, cocking his head slightly at the peculiar vocalisation. A few moments passed before Murdoc grunted again, and then again, his body shaking a little, and soon it became clear to Hannibal that his brother was actually _laughing_. Hannibal couldn't believe it, that Murdoc would have the audacity to laugh like this. He was dumbstruck for a few moments, observing Murdoc like an eagle entertaining it's prey.

Soon enough, Murdoc lifted his head and his gaze met Hannibal's. The smile on Murdoc's lips was more than apparent, and he chuckled as he brought up an arm to wipe the blood from his mouth. Hannibal's face contorted with a mixture of confusion and offence, and it made Murdoc laugh even more. His laugh wasn't like it usually was though, this laugh was low, mocking, a gesture of defiance that irked Hannibal down to his very core.

"And you call _me_ dramatic", Murdoc finally uttered, the sound of his slightly croaky voice taking Hannibal aback. It wasn't long before Hannibal's confusion was translated into raw, burning anger, and he instinctively balled his fists again as he felt his blood begin to boil. "Say anything else and i'll punch you so hard you won't be able to talk again, Murdoc". Murdoc didn't avert eye contact, and he could see that Hannibal meant every word of that threat. However, he didn't allow it to scare him. Hannibal talked big, but Murdoc saw through the tough-guy facade. He saw the pea-brain nobody that Hannibal really was.

"Can't you hear yourself?-", Murdoc began, with a look that could almost be mistaken for pity. "You're _pathetic_ Hannibal. You always have been. You got me wrapped up in all of this because without me, you would be nothing. Just dirt on the bottom of society's shoe. That's why I took your precious money-". Murdoc leaned closer, lowering his voice to nothing more than a whisper. "Because I was sick of being bossed around by the likes of _you_ ".

At that, Hannibal sucked in air and gritted his teeth, quickly pulling his fist back into a defensive stance, on the verge of another strike. Murdoc tensed, bracing himself for a second impact. He knew he had it coming, but the satisfaction of seeing Hannibal lost for a coherent response to his words made up for whatever kind of pain was to come. He closed his eyes, knowing there was no point trying to fight the inevitable.

"NO!"

The sound of Stuart's desperate cry immediately distracted Hannibal, his fist halting mid-air as he turned to the sound. He definitely wasn't expecting to see a young man with a gangly physique and neon blue hair staring back at him. Stuart took a few steps forward from beside the Winnebago, and the two men Hannibal had employed shared judging glances at the sight of him. Now that they knew Stuart posed no real threat, this was almost funny. Stuart eyes were brimming with tears, and while his captor was distracted, Murdoc was able to turn a little to look at his half-naked lover. It pained him to see that the side of Stuart's face was clearly bruising. He looked positively broken.

"Why can't you all just _stop_ it?! Stop it right now. Don't you dare hurt Murdoc, you psycho". Hannibal smirked, retracting his fist and crossing his arms. Now _this_ was rich, even for Murdoc's standards. "And who the fuck are you then?", he asked, looking amused, and Murdoc swallowed. "It doesn't matter who he is", he uttered gruffly, but his brother ignored him. Stuart hesitated for a moment. He was so shaken and confused at this point, he didn't really know whether answering that question would help things at all. The cold wind pricked goosebumps upon his exposed skin, and he soon noticed that Hannibal was looking him up and down.

Hannibal's dark grey eyes then flitted to Murdoc, who was also wearing only a pair of loose boxers, and suddenly it clicked in his mind. "Ooh", he vocalised in a breathy tone, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "I _knew_ it. I always knew you were a fag, Murdoc". The smirk on his lips was more than Murdoc could take, and the bassist glared back at his brother, his facial expression firm and unmoving. "Ha. I wonder what dad would've said about that?", he asked sarcastically, a mocking grin painted across his features. He then pulled back his fist and connected it with the side of Murdoc's face, and then he punched him again.

And again.

And again.

Murdoc hissed at first, but after a few more punches his reactions were limited. There was only so much pain his body could process, and this was too much at once. He was soon unaware of how many times he was being hit, because it all seemed to blend into a stream of continuous torment. His ears rang and his face throbbed, but the pain did not make itself apparent. He just heard the bones in his face crack with every hit.

Stuart immediately darted towards the two brothers, feeling all the breath escape his chest. His body was on autopilot, and his legs seemed to move without conscious control. However, before he could get near, the stocky man grabbed him and pulled him back, and Stuart struggled against his grasp. At the sight of Murdoc hanging limp, taking punch after punch, Stuart felt something new bubble up inside of him. Pure, storming rage. This was all so _unnecessary_. All he wanted was for it to stop, and his hands trembled as he began to panic once more.

That's when he realised. He realised he knew something that could end this torture. This was his chance to actually _do_ something, and he couldn't pass it up. There was no time for considering the consequences, not when Murdoc was in danger. Stuart thought for a moment, looking conflicted, like he was trying to construct his next sentence carefully. But eventually he inhaled, locking eyes with Hannibal.

 

"I know where the money is".

 

"What?"

 

"You heard what I said".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update soon, but like last time it will be whenever i can!
> 
> Also Fml it's 3am


	11. Chapter 11

  
The silence that followed was almost painful. It was funny how just a simple sentence could carry so much weight. To Hannibal, this meant that he was finally going to get what he had came here for, what he deserved.

For Murdoc, this was an unearthed secret.

The confusion on the bassist's face was more than apparent, despite the fact that the blood seeping from his split lip and steadily forming black eye obscured his features. He looked hurt, and not in only the physical sense. Stuart decided to avoid eye contact with the bassist from that point on. Even though Murdoc couldn't see it now, Stuart was doing this for his _safety_. How bad would that beating have gotten if he hadn't spoken up? Stuart didn't know Hannibal, and therefore didn't know how far he would go, or more importantly, if he would have stopped. He couldn't have just stood by, feeling helpless. Murdoc was too important for that.

Hannibal gestured towards the Winnebago, looking impatient. "Well it's no good just sodding standing there is it? Go get it", he demanded. Stuart felt the man restraining him release his grasp, and he nervously brushed the stray blue hairs from his eyes before proceeding to the open door of the Winnie. He didn't look back. The last thing he needed right now was a reminder of the immense pressure he was under.

Stuart felt his lower lip quiver a little as he tentatively stepped into the Winnebago and walked towards Murdoc's bedroom. He quickly looked back, checking to make sure that the men outside couldn't see him. When he became aware of his thumping heart, his sweaty palms, he couldn't help but feel pathetic. Was he really going to just give in? Give Hannibal what he wanted without any kind of fight? Surely he could do more. Surely he was _better_ than this.

Stuart gently pushed the bedroom door ajar despite his shaking hands, trying to ignore the stinging pain spreading across his face, and his eyes instantly set upon the space he last saw the money. The bed sheets had been messed up, laying in an unruly fashion across the surface of the bed. Stuart couldn't help but then notice the _mess_. Murdoc's shelves had been almost emptied and his wardrobe doors lay wide open, the clothes on their hangers pushed aside. Obviously while he was being beaten out there, Murdoc had been rummaging around franticly for what he could only assume was the baseball bat. Stuart winced when his eyes flickered back to what he came here for, and he brought up a hand to cradle the side of his steadily bruising face as he made for it. Murdoc could have been quicker, that's for sure.

Stuart bent down, lifting up a hanging part of bed sheet to uncover the box, sitting there dutifully beneath the bed. To think that all of this was over a box of money was hard to understand. Especially since these two men were brothers. _Brothers_. So closely related and yet not even hesitant to come even closer to killing each other.

"Oi!"

Stuart flinched, his hands grasping the box for dear life. It was Hannibal.

"Hurry up in there, will you! We haven't got all fucking day dullard!"

If Murdoc hated someone, Stuart had now learnt that that person was probably worth dismissing. But Hannibal... Hannibal was on an entirely different level. It was a miracle that Murdoc even came out a semi-decent person when he grew up surrounded by such vileness. Stuart pulled the box towards himself, exhaling deeply as the adrenaline-fuelled panic began to set in once more. All of Stuart just wanted to comply. To give Hannibal the money so it would all just _end_. But then a single thought changed it all.

_Murdoc wouldn't do this._

Stuart instantly hated himself, because with that one thought came unimaginable danger. Danger that Stuart had never felt before, and if he wasn't careful, everything he did from this point on would come back and hit him like a tidal wave. However, If Murdoc wouldn't do this, nor would he. That was for certain. But now...now he had to come up with a plan. Stuart felt his palms clam up, but he quickly pushed the box back under the bed and stood up. Then, nervously wringing his hands in the middle of the darkened bedroom, Stuart urged himself to just _think_.

He franticly looked around him, looking for any kind of inspiration, any kind of spark. His parents were well aware that Stuart would never be the greatest of thinkers. That's why his dad had encouraged him to stay and work the dodgems, why his mom had never even entertained the idea of him joining the medical profession. Stuart's mind didn't ever work like the other kids at school, and everyone knew that. That's why beneath it all, Stuart couldn't believe that this all rested on him. If his parents could see him now, he had no doubt that they would be mortified.

That train of thought hit him like a weight, and his nerves rose within him. He needed to stay calm. Focus. Murdoc's room was a mess, and absent-mindedly blinking at the variety of trinkets and junk riddling the floor was anything but productive. So, he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cogs turn within his brain. And suddenly drenched in a tense silence, Stuart stood, his hands falling to his sides, waiting desperately for anything to set the wheels in motion.

 _Wheels_. Stuart suddenly opened his eyes, ruminating on that single word. It suddenly felt so obvious. So clear cut. He almost wanted to slap himself.

He was in a bloody _Winnebago_.

Stuart didn't wait any longer, and he made for the front of the Winnie. It had been quiet outside for far too long now, and he knew that couldn't be good. Hannibal and his men would react to his absence soon, and if he knew anything for certain at this point, it's that brute force is their default. Stuart wrenched the drivers seat towards him, sitting on it before quickly turning to face the widely-spanning windscreen. The side door was still open and the hula woman that Murdoc kept on his dashboard rattled with the force of Stuart's movements.

If brute force was their default, then Stuart was going to fight back with a version of his own.

Stuart pushed his hair out of his face and gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing rooting him to the earth. He looked out the side mirror, checking where the group of men outside were standing. Murdoc was still restrained, but in the short moment that Stuart looked out, he could see the change in their expressions, the shock that was painted on the bassist's face as Stuart's plan began to play out in front of him. If there was ever a time for Stuart to prove himself, it was now, and time slowed as he pressed his bare foot against the clutch.

The Winnebago rumbled beneath him when the engine began to stir, and Murdoc's jaw dropped open as he watched his beloved tour bus reverse until it was maybe twenty metres away, stopping at the edge of the carpark when Stuart had them all directly in his sights. Hannibal froze, slowly realising what Stuart was about to do. All was still for a moment, and Hannibal's features gradually contorted with the first throws of an all-consuming rage.

"...That _cheeky_ son of a b-", Hannibal began to utter under his breath, but his words faded to nothing when he noticed the Winnebago rev its engine, its turning wheels spitting gravel from the floor below. While all of his attackers were distracted, Murdoc didn't even try to hide his astonishment. This was _Stuart_. The blue haired, gangly twenty-something that still lives with his parents. The guy who was afraid to jump onto a Ferris wheel without a ticket. What he was seeing didn't match with the Stuart he had previously known, and his amazement was undeniably apparent as he watched the Winnie accelerate towards them.

This feeling was short-lived however, as Murdoc quickly realised he was seconds away from being flattened by his own bus. Hannibal scrambled away, and the man reatraining him released Murdoc's neck and ran in a different direction, letting out an instinctive yell as the Winnie screeched towards them. Murdoc didn't have much time at that point. Everyone had dispersed in different directions, and the bassist just stood there in the middle of the cemented carpark.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but in these past fifteen minutes, he had felt more helpless than he had ever felt in his entire life. His limbs felt heavy, and his facial injuries practically screamed at him, throbbing beneath rapidly bruising skin. With the knowing that he had created this mess, that he had stolen from Hannibal, seen Stuart get hurt because of his misguided actions...he struggled to find a single reason to even _try_ to move.

And so he didn't.

Stuart's mind worked double-time as he hurtled towards Murdoc. The first part of his plan had gone as he had hoped- he'd dispersed Hannibal and his men. However, he hadn't accounted for Murdoc reacting like a complete and utter idiot. He furrowed his brows as he sped towards the bassist at god knows what number of miles per hour, his foot automatically pushing forcefully against the brake, calculating his next move.

Murdoc watched the Winnebago abruptly swerve out of the way, leaning dramatically to the side as its tires screeched, tearing black scuff marks into poorly-laid cement. He wasn't disappointed. More surprised, if anything; Surprised that Stuart had actually pulled it off. The Winnie slowed to an abrasive stop, its foundations rocking with the sudden deceleration, and the bassist stared at it with glassy eyes.

After a few moments, Stuart peaked his head out of the open side door. It was almost comical, seeing his innocent face after the chaos of the past thirty seconds, and Murdoc couldn't help but smirk. Stuart glanced at Hannibal and his men, clocking where they were. Hannibal had jumped towards some bushes at the edge of the carpark, one of the other men nearby. He couldn't see the taller man, but Stuart didn't want to waste any more time looking.

"Murdoc! Come on! Get in!", he shouted, sheer desperation seeping from every word as he hurriedly beckoned for the bassist to come. Murdoc saw the worry in Stuart's eyes and reacted to it instantly, rushing towards the Winnie without even a thought given to the way the ground practically grated against his bare feet. He didn't think he would even be alive at this point, let alone being rescued by Stuart like they were in some sodding action movie. He quickly reasoned that perhaps all of this would feel less surreal when the adrenaline pumping through his blood stream had finally subsided, but at least there was an end in sight. A glimmer of hope when he believed down to his very core that all had been lost.

When he got to the side door, Murdoc felt Stuart's hand enclose around his arm, wrenching him in. Murdoc then collapsed into the passenger seat, trying to hide the fact that his legs were shaky, the stiltedness of his movements. The after shock was suddenly rearing its head, and soon the bassist wouldn't be able to cope with much more. All that mattered was that he was finally safe, and his body and mind alike were _exhausted_. That heaviness suddenly overcame him, and his vision progressively blurred.

Stuart, seeing that Murdoc was semi-conscious, resumed his position at the steering wheel and narrowed his eyes. How this all ended was in his hands now, and the pressure on him was practically suffocating. But he had to persevere. Murdoc tried so hard to make himself seem impenetrable, indestructible...but now, as he lay there with a swollen face, a darkening black eye, Stuart couldn't help but pick up on a striking role reversal, and it scared him to his core.

He suddenly noticed Hannibal push himself to his feet, furrowing his brows at the Winnebago. Stuart didn't have time to sit around, because sitting around meant Hannibal had more and more time to come up with a plan of his own. He simply couldn't allow that to happen. Not when Murdoc needed him like this. There was only time to act.

After a few moments, Hannibal's disorientation subsided. The sky had darkened again above him, and the first drops of rain pattered against his face, running gently down his nose. He stood there, tense and unmoving, glaring darkly at the Winnebago. His features cast under a blackening sky, his dark grey eyes fixed to the tour bus like a missile to it's eventual target. This was all so incomprehensible. He finally had Murdoc in his hands, everything under his control. And more importantly, the money had been in his sights. Hannibal clenched his fists, feeling the way they stung after the punches he had laid upon his little brother, the way the joints clicked.

He had gotten his moment of glory, and he wasn't going to let some blue-haired twat, that had nothing to do with this mess in the first place, take it away from him. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the Winnebagos engine come alive once more, revving up from a low, unassuming grumble to something almost deafening. They were going to make a get-a-away. Hannibal reacted to this almost immediately, ignoring his two accomplices as he suddenly made for his parked van.

As he opened the side door and jumped into the driver's seat, Hannibal watched the Winnebago make a sharp turn, rattling on its hinges as it then sped towards the exit of the car park. The building rage pricked goosebumps on his skin as he turned the key in the ignition and slammed hard against the accelerator. The small van immediately screeched into action, speeding out of the carpark just after the Winnebago, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

The sea wind swirled across the empty cemented carpark, and the trees at its edge rustled in response. A calm that was abruptly broken when the taller of Hannibal's accomplices sat up out of a small shrubbery bush, scratching his head as he looked quizzically around him. "Did...did he just bloody leave us here?", he murmured.

 

 

Stuart bit down hard on his lower lip. The winding, narrow country roads were unforgiving to the edges of the Winnebago, and he flinched at every scrape and scratch he heard when he made a sharp turn. Murdoc would surely kill him for it, but that was probably negated by the fact that Stuart had just saved him from that psycho he calls a brother. The direction they were going in didn't matter, all he had to do now was get them far away. Hannibal hadn't been expecting that, and the thought of how surprised they had all been was almost comical. Almost, if it weren't for the fact that he was still in the middle of it all.

As he was driving, Stuart flashed a glance at Murdoc. The older man was leaning way back in his seat, his limbs limp, and Stuart noticed upon a quick second look that his eyes were now closed. Completely gone. Great. Really, he needed to get Murdoc to a hospital as soon as possible, and he made a mental note of it as he took a sharp right, haphazardly looking into his side mirror as he did so. However, what he saw took all of the breath out of his lungs.

Hannibal's white van. It appeared like something from a nightmare at the end of the country lane. Stuart's hands clenched harder around the steering wheel, and his breaths were sharp, urgently taken as he hastily accelerated. The trees and bushes whipped by, and all that could be heard was the constant rumble of the engine, the way the shelves in Murdoc's bedroom rattled with every sudden movement. Upon turning left into another empty road, Stuart saw that Hannibal was gaining on him, and quickly. He needed to loose him, but the country lanes of Newquay were making that task impossible.

Watching Hannibal's van get closer and closer stirred Stuart's nerves once more from the pit of his being, but he tried to shove them down. He had to remain calm. With Murdoc knocked out, this was all resting on him. What if Hannibal did catch up to him? What then? Stuart knew that Hannibal would do all he could to stop the Winnebago, and realistically, he was stronger than both him and Murdoc combined. They wouldn't stand a chance.

Stuart had been concentrating so hard on driving through the countryside that when he found himself turning into a road heading onto the motor way, his eyes instinctively widened. Maybe this was how he would lose him, among the other cars and lorries speeding along the three lanes of the widely spanning road. After a few moments, Stuart turned from the connecting road into the middle of the rumbling motor way, holding his breath as he checked the side mirror once more.

He didn't have a second to spare before he noticed that Hannibal's van was directly behind him, taking up most of the side mirrors surface. At this distance, he could see Hannibal at the driver's seat, the furious look on his face made Stuart quickly adjust his focus, looking back out to the road ahead, to the prospect of freedom. However, it was then that he felt something collide with the Winnebagos rear, sending him flying foreword in his seat. Stuart grabbed for dear life at the steering wheel to keep him centred, and when the Winnie felt stable again, he pushed the hair out of his eyes. He couldn't help but yell out in response, releasing all of his pent up nerves in a single curse before checking the side mirror again as he accelerated into the fast lane.

That's when a small murmur met his ears from the passenger seat. He almost instantly looked to Murdoc, who then let out a slightly louder moan as he stretched in his seat. Stuart gasped. This was exactly what he needed right now-someone to finally help him. "Murdoc!", he urgently voiced. "Mmm?", Murdoc responded, clearly still waking up. "Murdoc, Hannibal is bloody _chasing_ us!", Stuart blurted, focussing on the road once more. With his eyes still lazily closed, Murdoc gripped either side of his seat and pushed his body upwards, eventually sitting up, his hair comically unruly.

"What?", the older man slurred as he rubbed at his eyes, recoiling when his fingertips met the sore, swelling skin below his eye. Murdoc's eyes widened at this, and he carefully dabbed at his face, assessing the damage. "You remember, don't you?", Stuart hastily asked, noticing Murdoc's uncharacteristic silence. " _Please_ remember". Murdoc stopped touching his face and brushed back his hair as he narrowed his eyes, bewilderedly looking out of the windscreen.

"Murdoc. Your psycho brother is right behind us in his van! Look!", Stuart pleaded. Murdoc scratched his head as he slowly turned to look out the side mirror. "Yeah, yeah Stu. It's coming back to m-". Murdoc instantly turned back in his seat, frozen with fear. "God. You weren't joking. He's right behind us", he uttered. Stuart gave a dumbfounded look as he sped the Winnie into the middle lane, tactically positioning it between two lorries for cover. "Does it look like i'm bloody joking? We need to lose him!".

" _Shit.. Shit shit shit shit_ " Murdoc cursed under his breath as he looked about them, assessing what motor way they were on. "He wants us to _crash_. Murdoc what do we do?". The bassist checked the side mirror again, paranoia setting in. The van was gaining on them, closing in from the fast lane. They had to find some way to slip away without him noticing.. some kind of sudden turning. That was the only way they would be able to lose him. "Stuart. Listen to me", Murdoc instructed in an urgent tone, looking out once more. "Turn into the slow lane. Now". Stuart nodded, and after a few moments of waiting for a space, he wrenched the steering wheel, guiding the Winnebago into the lane.

Murdoc then looked out of the window on the right hand side, his eyes flitting rapidly, searching for Hannibal's van. When he saw it emerge behind a lorry and turn into the middle lane so it was right beside them, he swallowed. Stuart on the other hand didn't hesitate to hold back his worry. "Murdoc! He is right there! We're in the flipping _slow_ lane and he is right by our side! There's no way we-" "Can you shut up for just one second Stu? I can't think!", Murdoc retorted, translating his nervousness into agitation. Really, he made it seem like he had some semblance of a plan just to make Stuart feel less paranoid. The last thing he needed right now was for Stuart to panic and lose control.

Murdoc scanned the roads stretching out in front of them. They were busy today, but this could prove to be an advantage. They needed to slip away into the crowd, that was the only way they were going to escape unnoticed in a huge Winnebago. He internally cursed his choice of car as he read the road signs ahead. When they had driven a way further, Murdoc noticed a sign for a turning in the direction of Devon. This could be it. They had moments to prepare, and Hannibal could _not_ know what was about to happen.

"Stuart. Can you see that next sign?", the bassist asked. The younger man hastily looked to it, then looked quizzically back at Murdoc. "We can't turn there Murdoc. We'll need to swing into the road next to us, and it's full", he said, taking a cursory glance to the left. "Don't look at it. Hannibal can see us from here. He'll know where we're going", Murdoc answered, making an effort to only look straight ahead of them. The on setting silence betrayed Stuart's visceral fear, and Murdoc spoke up once more, trying his hardest to remain calm.

"You'll just have to trust me, Stu. And I know that after all this shit, that may be hard to do. But just do exactly what I say. We can do this". Stuart blinked away his onsetting tears, trying his hardest to conceal them from the older man as he slowly nodded. Murdoc angled his head to the left ever so slightly, so he could plan their next move. The sign had passed them now, and the turning was seconds away. Every fleeting moment counted, but he couldn't let the pressure get to him. Not when Stuart was at breaking point.

"...When I say go, you take a left. Okay?", Murdoc instructed. Stuart nodded. The lane they were going to turn into was bustling, with only the occasional gap. This turning needed to be quick, and more importantly, it needs to be precise..if they were going to live. Murdoc noticed a space between a lorry and a small car ahead, and he directed all of his focus to it. "Turn in three, two...", he counted, immediately holding his breath as they grew closer and closer.

"One...". Stuart dramatically reduced the speed of the Winnebago, readying himself at the steering wheel. "Go!", Murdoc shouted, and Stuart instantly wrenched the steering wheel. They swerved into the lane between the two moving vehicles, and Murdoc winced at the sound of the Winnebago's tires screeching. The Winnebago was going a little faster than the two vehicles, and they almost powered into the rear of the lorry in front of them. Without instruction, Stuart pushed hard against the brake, reducing the speed even more, and the Winnebago rumbled as they drove between the two.

Murdoc instantly looked to their right, and when he noticed Hannibal's van continuing into the distance on the motor way, he breathed a sigh of relief. "You did it. You actually _did_ it", he said almost admiringly, leaning back into his seat as relief washed over him. Stuart turned to Murdoc, looking just as taken aback. "I would have been absolutely done for if it wasn't for you, Muds", he said as he drove up a small hill, approaching a round-about. Murdoc momentarily closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, but as he did so, he couldn't help but smile. "Well, that might be true", he responded, and Stuart laughed.

Murdoc giggled along, and they both found themselves releasing all their pent up energy by laughing together. "We lost him.. in a sodding Winnebago", Murdoc voiced, wiping away tears. Stuart erupted with laughter at that, swerving the bus slightly as they turned into a random country lane, and Murdoc jumped up in his seat, grabbing the steering wheel to stabilise it. He then smiled calmly as he placed a hand over Stuart's, gripping it tight as he drove, and Stuart looked to him momentarily.

Nothing needed to be said, and in this moment of silence, Murdoc noticed Stuart's smile dissipate as he drove. "You okay?", the bassist asked, looking concerned. Stuart felt his eyes welling up at the feeling of Murdoc's hand on his, and with it, everything suddenly caught up to him. What had happened today would change his outlook on life forever, and suddenly it all felt so overwhelming. After that, would he ever feel safe again? He remembered how he had thought about his parents, how he truly believed he would never see them again.

  
"Murdoc. We- we could have _died_ today", he uttered, his voice quiet, a mere whisper that the Winnebagos rumbling would have disguised if it weren't for Murdoc being so close. Murdoc instantly averted his gaze. All of this had been his fault, and the guilt was crushing. Looking at Stuart, the way his bruises matched his own, the tearful look in his eyes..he knew that right now, more than anything, the younger man deserved an explanation.

Murdoc swallowed, and slowly retracted his hand. He leant back in his seat, sitting there for a few moments in silence, and Stuart wiped at his eyes when a tense quiet set in, sniffling as tears streamed down his cheeks. Murdoc then turned back to Stuart, taking in a deep breath.

"I think we need to pull over", he uttered.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a whilleeee. But i finally got chapter 11 done!! Its a christmas present to all you guys who are still around. Hope you liked it. Next chapter soon.


	12. Chapter 12

Everything was still for a moment after Stuart had pulled over, neatly tucking the Winnebago into a lay by at the side of a small country road. They had parked by a quaint shop, and the light from its glowing sign softly entered the bus, glinting off the side of Murdoc's face as the wintry dark set in outside. The days were so short in the winter, so short that what had happened not long ago almost felt like a swirling nightmare, ripping at the corners of his consciousness, making his breaths feathered, his eyes tear up for the second time. Stuart felt Murdoc's gaze on him, and he knew that the bassist was stuck for words. That was understandable, Stuart judged. Seeing as all of this had been his doing.

Stuart took a breath and dabbed at his stinging eyes before he spoke up, his voice low, and strained. "Murdoc. What was that?", he asked, the usual lightness of his tone gone. "What was it? All of it?". The younger man looked as if he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue, looking to Murdoc for some kind of answer, to be told something that finally made sense.  Something that wasn't routed in lies. Murdoc met Stuart's gaze and sighed before scratching his head, the silence thick between them. He didn't even know how to approach answering that.

"Well...where do I begin?", the bassist asked, his voice gravelly. The look on his face was distant, but Stuart knew there was something bubbling below the surface. 

"At the start. The money, your brother... I just want to know  _why_ , Murdoc".

At that, Murdoc turned away, looking at the cars buzzing past on the road beside them, their headlights dancing upon the reflective surface of his eyes. "I'll tell you, Stu. But don't be surprised if you end up liking me  _a lot_  less after this", he warned, and Stuart gave a concerned look, but remained silent. The onset of quiet pushed Murdoc to elaborate. "Hannibal and I, we've...we've never got on. When we were young the fights were bad, but never deadly. Never like today. Ever since he went to prison for drug smuggling, Hannibal just seemed to spiral out of control. I mean, he was already every kind of crazy before it, thanks to our drunken wreck of a dad. But prison...prison dragged him down to insanity like an anchor to the depths of the sea".  

Murdoc paused for a moment and brushed back his hair. He wasn't used to this, open communication and the sort. He couldn't help but feel uncomfortably akin to an open wound as the words fell from his lips. "At the start, when he was first banged up... I can't even explain how  _relieved_  I was Stu. Having Hannibal around was like my dad had risen from his sodding grave to haunt me. He's the spit of him, you see. From the way he talks to the way he can throw a sodding punch". Stuart noticed how glassy Murdoc's eyes were, like they were welling up with tears. It made his heart lurch.

"I thought I'd lost him. That I'd finally never see his face again. I was an idiot for thinking that. An absolute fucking idiot. People in your life come and go, business partnerships end, relationships fizzle out. But  _family_... family latch on to you like a leech. I was so stupid to think my problems would go away just like that". 

Stuart hung off every word. "What did he do?", the younger man asked.

"He started texting me. It began with just the odd message. Always threats. I remember when I saw the first one while I was at the pub with some mates I nearly had a full blown panic attack. I had to leave straight away and sit down. I got used to them after that. Fancy that, eh? Getting used to being threatened. Kind of a theme in my life, really". Murdoc half-smiled, exhaling quietly as he did so, but the smile quickly dissipated when his thoughts aligned again. "I just ignored them, but somehow I could never bring myself to block his number".

"Why not?" 

"I don't know, Stu. I told you that you would like me less after you heard all of this shit. I don't even make sense to  _myself_  half the time". 

Stuart closed his mouth, looking hurt at Murdoc's abrasive tone, and the bassist quietly averted his gaze in shame before he reluctantly continued. "Hannibal soon got bored of sending texts, seeing as every one of them was left unanswered. He began to try and call me after that. He would call and call, maybe twice a day from what I can only assume was the prison phone. I didn't ever pick up..". 

Murdoc let his words trail off, looking like he was thinking, like he was trying to process this just as Stuart was."...Until one day. I had this one night stand, right? Now don't get me wrong, that's not unusual for me. I'd had a lot that month, maybe more than normal. But anyway, I'd had so much on my mind, so much shit that I couldn't share with anyone...well, to cut a story short, when we both got into the Winnie and I was absolutely off my head on porn star martinis, I just told her everything. I didn't hold back a single detail...I might have even cried at one point. Now that is  _not_  who I am, Stu. Not at all". 

"When I woke up she had gone, and I just sat there...alone in my Winnebago, as always. I just sat there and started thinking about where I was going in life, and suddenly everything felt so pointless. I was hungover, lonely, even sadder than usual...and that's when Hannibal called me again. At my lowest moment. I finally caved and answered it, agreeing to meet him at prison the next day like an absolute plank". 

Murdoc scratched his arm, seemingly more out of stress than anything. Sure he remembered all of this, clear as day. But reciting it chronologically made him really think about it. His lips were moving as he told the story, but his thoughts were working double time beneath it all like an undulating rhythm. His scratching slowed to a stop as he thought about what happened next, but before he spoke, he quickly looked to Stuart, becoming aware of himself for a fleeting moment. 

"I'm sure after today, you can guess what happened there, Stu. My brother smuggled drugs, I was well-versed in shit talking my way out of situations...we made an almost perfect business partnership. I had disregarded the fact that we were siblings long ago. That didn't matter. I only saw the money, maybe got carried away with the idea of having something meaningful for once in my whole fucking life. He was well aware I'd broken out of a high security Mexican prison, and we agreed a 50/50 deal if I got him out of his little cell in Wrexham. So I did".

Stuart couldn't help but look a little taken aback by all this. Murdoc just flitted past the fact that he'd been a prisoner in Mexico like it was nothing. The younger man didn't know whether to ask about it or let the subject fade. Murdoc quickly caught on to Stuart's subtle befuddlement, ever so slightly raising a brow at Stuart in response. He knew what was coming.

"Erm...you were banged up in Mexico?", Stuart asked, his voice groggy from being silent so long. Murdoc sighed, smiling ever so slightly. "Yep. Caught selling dud checks in a cat house over there. What's new?". Stuart chuckled a little at this, despite his reluctance, and Murdoc relaxed a little at the sound of his little laugh from the drivers seat before he continued.

"I'm no angel, Stu. But my brother hasn't got a shred of humanity left in him. I think it got punched out of him by our dad, maybe it got lost somewhere in that dingy prison cell he called home for so many years. Our partnership was okay to begin with, but it soon turned sour. I got so used to him treating me like dirt that only recently did I see what was  _actually_  happening".

Murdoc shivered a little when he remembered the brutality of Hannibal's beatings, the thought dragged him back down into blackness, and he turned away a little. Stuart quickly caught on to the other man's discomfort, bringing out a hand to slowly rub at Murdoc's shoulder. 

The bassist shuddered when he felt Stuart's hand, but he soon felt lighter at the younger man's touch. "Thank god I met you Stuart. I met you at that fairground and it made me want something more than that. I was in denial about it at the time, but you were the final thing that made me leave Hannibal. I decided Newquay was a nice place to start again, you by my side...hedged my bets that you fancied me at least a little the second time I met you. Now, obviously everything went pear-shaped because of course, I had to go and ruin it before it even began".

Stuart let his hand still, placing it back by his side. This was the part he was dying to hear, and he couldn't help but interject when he guessed what Murdoc was going to explain next. "The money". Murdoc turned to him and slowly nodded in confirmation, his expression solemn. He knew this was a touchy subject. "I took all of it, not just my half like we'd agreed. I took it all out of spite, bundled it in the back of my Winnie and drove out to you the same day. Yeah, before you say it, I know that was a dumb move. But I was so  _desperate_  at the time to be freed of the sod, I decided that when I did make my escape, I wanted to leave with a bang. Add something extra, like a final dig at him".

There was a moment of silence, and Stuart looked to the floor, processing all of this. When Murdoc spoke up again, Stuart looked up in surprise at the sound of his voice cracking. "I didn't think about what could happen. What he would  _do_ ". Murdoc let those words linger in the air for a few long seconds, feeling a lump form within his throat. The idea of uttering another word became suddenly impossible, and Stuart's gaze was burning. The bassist recoiled slightly when he felt his own tears run down his cheeks, turning away from the younger man in shame. When Stuart noticed this, he was stuck for words. In that moment, it was hard to believe that this was  _Murdoc_  sat beside him. Instead, in the bassist's place was a broken man, like the shell had been removed to reveal something so fragile. 

Stuart acted upon his instincts and shuffled to the edge of his seat, seeking eye contact with the older man who seemed to be making every effort to hide his face beneath his hands. Stuart then wrapped his long arms around Murdoc, who jolted ever so slightly with every sharp intake of breath as he cried, safely encased in Stuart's arms. Stuart, taking after his sensitive mother, silently fought back his own tears as he squeezed Murdoc tightly, surprised at how  _small_  the bassist suddenly felt below him. Stuart blocked everything out. He ignored the cars zipping past, the swirling wind gently pushing the Winnie on its hinges, the glare of the shop sign next to them. He could only hear and see Murdoc against his chest, and he buried his face into the bassist's hair upon a deep exhale. 

Stuart just wanted to protect him. Protect him from what he had been through, from what was to come. It was hard knowing how much of their lives they had spent apart. It was like they had been destined to meet each other, but perhaps destiny struck too late. The scars had already made their presence known. The years had already gone by. Their lives up until just a few days ago had been lived apart. This thought was painful, and a tear escaped Stuart's eye as he broke the silence. "I don't know what to say, Murdoc", he stuttered, emotion overspilling into his tone. He angled his head up, gently resting his chin on the top of the older man's head.

The image of Murdoc standing there helplessly in the middle of the carpark as Stuart had speeded towards him in the Winnebago abruptly entered the younger man's mind. Stuart judged that he wouldn't bring that up, at least not yet. Murdoc had acted stupid, but his actions always betrayed him. The bassist must feel worthless, and Stuart so wanted to be the one to help build him back up, make him feel safe for once in his life.  "Just know I'll always be here, from now on. I'm not leaving you". Murdoc stilled momentarily at that, and Stuart looked down at him. He caught a glimpse of the bruises on the man's face as he then repositioned himself, deeper into Stuart's embrace, and Stuart realised that with this day, he'd lost his innocence, his cushioned upbringing had surely been torn to shreds, but he'd certainly gained someone he would fight for. 

  
                     ***

 

Murdoc winced as Stuart dabbed at his facial wounds, taking sharp intakes of breath every time the cold cotton wool made contact with the bruising under his eye. Stuart, with wounds to match, smiled gently at the older man, who didn't try to hide his disgruntlement with the doting attention. After their talk, they had decided to get dressed and go into the shop, leaving with some cotton wool and antiseptic cream from the pharmacy inside. They had then found a nearby caravan park and parked up there for the evening, and as Stuart cared for the man before him, the early risen moon broke through the sea mist that slowly passed by outside the window. Something straight out of a painting, Stuart judged. The feeling of calm the view brought with it was very much welcome. His bare toes wriggled among the silk sheets below him as he sat cross legged opposite Murdoc, who mirrored his stance. 

Murdoc complained when Stuart dabbed a little too clumsily. "Oi! Stop day-dreaming, you. That hurt". Stuart immediately came to, meeting Murdoc's annoyed gaze with innocently startled eyes. The older man quickly realised this was his chance to escape the younger man's attentiveness, and so leaned back, resting on his elbows on the bed with a deep exhale. "Lets have a break for a sec. I'm not used to all this 'caring for each other' shit", Murdoc grumbled, before leaning over to grab his glass of orange juice, placed precariously close to the two empty dinner plates upon the bedside table. Stuart rolled his eyes before pushing the stray hairs out of his face. When he looked back at the older man, he wasn't expecting to see Murdoc's dark eyes set upon him as he slowly sipped from his repurposed whiskey glass.

"So what about you then?", Murdoc asked, seemingly out of nowhere. Stuart gave him a confused look. "What about me?", the younger man asked back. "You were right in the middle of all that shit that happened today, and you've hardly said a word about it". This made Stuart tense up a little and he swiftly broke eye contact, but Murdoc's gaze didn't relent, his relaxed expression becoming more one of concern. "You're not in shock are you? Tell me you're not in shock", he voiced. Stuart fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt, dismissing Murdoc's inquiry with a small shrug. "Nah Murdoc..". After a moment Stuart stilled, looking thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure I'm not. How do you know if you're in shock?".

At this, Murdoc smiled a little, placing his glass back upon the table. "I dunno Stu, I think it's different for everybody". Stuart looked up, his eyes meeting Murdoc's, and he soon noticed the bassist's facial expression shift. "You don't look good", Murdoc said after a short moment, and Stuart scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?", the younger man inquired in a slightly jokey tone, but Murdoc's expression didn't change. "You know what I mean". When Stuart grew silent, the bassist continued. "I just want to know you're okay. Like, truly okay. No matter which way you look at it, Hannibal has officially ruined this whole trip". Murdoc paused for a moment and scratched his head before looking at Stuart with sincerity in his eyes. "You don't have to put up a front. If something's wrong, Stu, tell me".

Stuart sighed as he leant back across the width of the bed, his legs folded over its edge, kicking his feet softly in the air as he thought. The older man responsively shifted so he was leaning on his side, propping his head on his hand so he could look to Stuart as the younger man stared at the ceiling. "I mean, I think I'm mostly okay now.. but I'm gonna be honest Muds, that was probably the scariest thing that's ever happened to me". Murdoc didn't respond immediately to that, but let the younger man's words sink in for a moment, noticing how they seemed to sting at him. "Yeah..", Murdoc eventually grumbled. "That's understandable". 

Stuart continued to stare upwards, bringing up his arms to cross them behind his head as he lay. "I haven't had a panic attack like that in a long time. I forgot what it felt like". Murdoc looked away momentarily. "Hannibal tends to have that effect on people", the bassist noted, remembering his moment of panic. The thought of it mostly embarrassed him at this point. "My legs went all wobbly, I couldn't even see straight-", Stuart said before angling his head to Murdoc, who met his gaze. "I'm sorry I let you down there Murdoc. Maybe we could have beaten them there and then if that hadn't have come over me". Murdoc furrowed his brows at this, a little taken aback. "That was in  _no_  way your fault, Stu. Get that out of your head. You were fucking amazing today, driving the Winnie when I clocked out like you did. I deserved a few of those punches anyway..better he laid them on me than you". 

Stuart smiled faintly at that, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. Before the younger man turned back to stare at the ceiling however, Murdoc noticed how he mostly looked exhausted. "I kept thinking about my parents...I should probably text them or something", Stuart uttered, before feeling for his phone in his jean pockets. Murdoc raised an eyebrow. "You haven't even texted them this whole time? Not gonna lie, your folks seem the type to worry too much", Murdoc remarked. Stuart didn't respond, and when his search came out fruitless he sighed deeply. "Hm. It'll be in here somewhere, I didn't have it when I went outside-". Stuart looked as if he was going to get up for a moment, but then sunk back into the sheets, closing his eyes. Murdoc smirked. "We'll find it tomorrow", the bassist said, before laying down next to him.

They silence that followed was peaceful, and although Stuart still had a lot to process, it reminded him why he came on this trip. To feel at peace with his life, to be reminded that the world doesn't revolve around Crawley. _Crawley_. That place seemed so distant now, the name seemed to beckon him, calling him to sleep. He still found comfort in knowing his home awaited him. His parents awaited him. Some minutes passed and his breathing soon became drawn out as his dreams made their first flourishes known upon the canvas of his mind.

"Do you miss it?...Home?"

Murdoc's voice came from behind him, and Stuart stirred a little. The question came from nowhere, as if the bassist had heard his thoughts. The younger man could barely muster a word at this point, and nodded lazily without opening his eyes, voicing a small "mhm" that was almost lost within an exhale, before reaching for the sheets and pulling them towards his head for comfort. Murdoc saw this, continuing to lay there in thought. It was too early to sleep, but he did need a rest. He was all too aware that the man next to him could sleep for England, and he was more than willing to give him all the time he needed. It was the least he could do. 

However, that was when the underlying guilt once again reared its head, and this time it was almost unbearable. Murdoc immediately looked over to Stuart, sleeping peacefully as he was, and he couldn't help but feel like he'd somehow corrupted him. Like he'd ripped him away from a comfortable life and thrown him head-first into his. No one deserved that. Stuart was still young, filled with excitement for the future, a certain untapped innocence. How could he have thought that this was a good idea?

How could he have been  _stupid_  enough to think that his reality would be suitable for anyone else but him? Murdoc turned, laying in a foetal position away from the younger man. If he should have learnt anything by now, in his whole miserable life, it was that nothing he does ever turns out right. It always spirals, always ends with him beaten and bruised. Now his bruises were reflected on Stuart's face.

Murdoc halted himself at that thought, but the self-depreciation had already taken its effect, and his mood was low when he finally fell asleep some hours later. However, it was the middle of the night when he heard some sort of vibration coming from the middle of the bedroom. Murdoc, who had been in a light sleep, awoke quickly at the sound, rising up from his bed and looking for its source. He was going to ignore it, seeing as Stuart hadn't even stirred, but before he lay back down again, the vibration sounded once more.

Murdoc sighed, judging that sleep wouldn't return easily after this sudden awakening as he slid out of bed. When he stood, finding his balance for a moment within the darkened room, he looked back and cracked a smile at the way Stuart was sleeping. The younger man was in a foetal position across the width of the bed, but with the length of his legs, his feet hung across the edge. His arms barely fit either, and one dangled limply over the edge of the bed frame. Murdoc affectionately rolled his eyes, remembering what he was doing as he turned to where he last heard the sound. His eyes flickered across the floor, which to his dismay, was littered with clothes, underwear and his usual assorted tat. For the first time, the bassist cursed at his own lack of cleanliness. 

It was after a few seconds that Murdoc noticed the faint glare of a phone screen within the pocket of Stuart's jacket, which lay crumpled in the middle of the room. Murdoc immediately reached for it, remembering how the younger man had lost it. However, he couldn't help but look at the screen, blinking away the sleep-induced fuzziness of his vision as the phone reflected brightly upon the surface of his black eyes. 

On it was a text from Stuart's Dad.

_Just got back from a busy day. Dodgems were crazy tonight! I'm sure you could've handled it though :) I know it's not been long, but please please text me when you can Stu. Your mum and I just want to know everything is going okay with this Murdoc fella xx_

Murdoc stared for a long moment at this. Eventually gathering the strength to scroll down, seeing a few more texts flash up, all from Stuart's parents. Sure, they were worriers, but nothing could make Murdoc feel more like he was tearing a family apart. Stuart's parents didn't like him, that much was clear. Not many people did. But this was too much. It was time to nip this in the bud, stop it before things get worse. Hannibal was still about, and Murdoc wasn't ignorant enough to believe that his brother wouldn't try and find him again. This was his chance to free Stuart of his broken life, before he unknowingly chained the younger man to it.

  
He had to take Stuart home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update whenever i can, third year of uni is getting in the way lol but i so enjoyed writing this


	13. Chapter 13

Murdoc soon clambered back into bed. He tried his best to be subtle, but the bassist's version of subtlety wasn't quite the norm, and Stuart awoke slightly as the sheets moved above him and the mattress sunk and then rose again. Although he only stirred a little, opening his eyes to a mere squint before closing them again, and Murdoc placed the younger man's phone on the floor by the bed.

Murdoc leant up again and exhaled as he lay his head down. He always created problems for himself, and thinking about everything he regretted about the past few days meant he wasn't sure if sleep would come easily to him that night. Of course, the events he was about to catalyse weren't something he wanted, and telling the younger man what he had decided was going to pose a challenge. Stuart could be stubborn when he wanted to be...but Murdoc wanted Stuart's safety more, and that was the end of it.

 

***

 

The eggs spitted in the pan as they fried, practically drenched in oil. Murdoc stood beside the hob and flipped over one of them, reeling back a little when the oil began to spit a bit more aggressively. He'd been awake for hours now, and had gotten straight out of bed to walk to the corner shop, morning cigarette in hand. He'd reasoned that perhaps making breakfast for Stuart would butter him up, put him in a position where he wouldn't dare be angry when Murdoc tells him he's taking him home.

A greasy English breakfast always did the trick. Murdoc was well used to making them too, seeing as when he was young his father would order him to make the dish for both him and Hannibal on many a dreary Sunday morning in Stoke. Murdoc couldn't really cook, and so he always added too much oil. His father liked the greasiness. Of course he did. His clogged arteries were probably yet another contributor to his much awaited death.

Murdoc flipped the other egg over, and he soon decided to think about something else, seeing as the thought of his father made him practically shudder with disgust. Maybe he could do something worth while, Murdoc judged, as Stuart was still sleeping in the bedroom not far from him. He could practise telling the younger man what had been on his mind this past night.

Murdoc cleared his throat, leant against the kitchen counter, and when he spoke his words escaped his lips as a low, self-conscious grumble. "So...err, Stuart", he said, looking to the empty kitchen. "..Did you like the breakfast? You did? Well, thanks. Pretty amazing if I do say so myself. I should open a bloody restaurant or something, i'd make stacks", Murdoc smiled a little at his stupid little fantasy situation, but it dissipated when he thought of what came next in the script.

"I need to tell you something, but you have to promise not to get angry, cry... beat me to death with a sodding stick and the like, yeah?”. Murdoc gave a low chuckle at his own sarcasm, deciding it was best to cut out the stick part, and soon resumed after he'd brushed back his hair and re-established eye contact with the kitchen cupboards across from him. "I'm going to take you-"

Murdoc's words ended abruptly when he saw the door to the kitchen open slowly, and a barely awake Stuart plodded in, rubbing his eye. "Mornin' Murdoc", the younger man said in a croaky little voice, and Murdoc grabbed the spatula and turned quickly back to attend the frying eggs. Stuart winced when he realised his eye was still horribly bruised, and his hand fell to his side as he sat at the small kitchen table. Murdoc had his back to the younger man, his eyes open wide. If Stuart had heard all of that he was done for.

"Making something?", Stuart asked innocently. Murdoc nodded as he flipped an egg in the air. "Yep. A fry-up for two, if you're interested". Stuart looked ecstatic about this, seeing as his stomach was already rumbling furiously. "Nice! Since when have you been a cook?", the younger man inquired in an amused tone. Murdoc jokingly scoffed. "My whole life, you bastard". Stuart immediately giggled. "Well sorry, _Chef Niccals_ ".

The two men chatted casually as Murdoc finished up the breakfast, slapping the eggs, bacon, sausages and fried bread on one plate that the two of them could share from- saved time on the washing up front. When they had sat down opposite each other, Stuart congratulated the older man before they proceeded to dig in, and as Murdoc smiled in thanks, he took a moment to savour the feeling.

This was nice, and the shame of having to end it all so prematurely boiled within the pit of Murdoc's being. Stuart, as always, seemed remarkably unaware as he devoured his breakfast. Murdoc decided to allow Stuart time to eat properly before he broached the subject, seeing as the younger man was tucking in with immense vigour. Murdoc's fry-ups tended to have that effect on people.

Murdoc got up after a few more minutes and flicked the kettle on. "Coffee?", he inquired as he went to open the cupboard above him. Stuart nodded, seemingly almost finished with his breakfast. Murdoc salvaged two mugs and placed them on the counter below, but upon looking at them properly he realised they were in desperate need of a wash.

"So what are we gonna do today, Muds?", Stuart asked, and Murdoc froze momentarily as he washed the mugs. "How about a museum? Oh! No, maybe we could actually have a proper beach day, yanno, without the crazy older brother and nearly dying thing". Stuart leant back in his chair, his gangly legs stretched out fully below the table, before he scratched the crown of his head in thought a moment. "I could have a look at what places are nearby if you want", he said, looking to Murdoc's turned back as the older man poured boiling water into the mugs.

Murdoc's lips tensed. The guilt was rising, and he didn't know how much more of this he could take. All he could muster was a faint "mhm" as he stirred the coffee into the steaming water, and soon after that he heard Stuart leave the room excitedly. Murdoc would tell him when he got back. He had to.

Murdoc had sat down with the two cups of black coffee by the time the younger man had returned, engrossed in his phone. "Ooh look!", Stuart eventually blurted, showing Murdoc his phone. "Whipsiderry beach ain't far from here. Seems pretty". Murdoc gave a weak nod, then contemplated for a moment before he gently pressed Stuart's phone to the table top while it was in his hand. Stuart gave a puzzled look as Murdoc cleared his throat a little. 

"Stu... Erm. I'm just gonna be straight with you. We're not doing any of those things". Stuart looked a little hurt at this, and Murdoc tried his best to push down the guilt. "I'm going to take you home, mate. Today". The bassist knew his tone was abrasively blunt, but it was the only form in which he could force the words from his lips.

Stuart sat up in his seat, studying the bassist's face as he did so. Murdoc returned his gaze. The older man looked saddened by what he was saying, and Stuart didn't attempt to hide his confusion. "Why?", the younger man asked, his tone hush. Murdoc brushed back his hair and leant back in his seat, letting a small sigh escape his lips. This was going exactly how he thought it would, but the pre-planning didn't make it feel any less difficult.

"I'm busy. You know my deal now, Stu. So you should already be aware that I don't get a lot of time for doing pointless stuff on the side. I need to sort out business stuff, fix the Winnie up..", Murdoc fleetingly looked out the window as he thought. "..find out whatever the fuck my brother is going to do next..", he grumbled, almost under his breath.

Murdoc was making excuses. He knew he was, but the real question was whether Stuart would fall for it. There were some moments of silence, and Murdoc looked tensely to Stuart, who seemed despondent. "I can't believe you sometimes", the younger man finally uttered. Murdoc couldn't help but look offended at this, but remained silent, like a guilt-ridden child caught telling white lies.

Stuart seemed like he was still processing this, but the words escaped his lips before he was even aware. "So the man who had the time to spend two days hanging around my dad's bloody fairground is suddenly _busy_? How could you think that your stupid lies would work on me? after all we've gone through?". 

He'd really done it now. Not only had Murdoc managed to mess this up, but now Stuart was upset. Murdoc couldn't feel more like everyone he let into his life ultimately suffered. He enticed them in with his charm, but when they discovered what lay underneath they always ended up broken, bruised. 

"Okay, okay. Yeah, i'm lying. But you have to try and see this whole shamble of a situation from _my_ perspective, Stu..". "And what is that then?", Stuart briskly interjected. "-Cos from where i'm sitting I can see what you're thinking loud and clear. You think i'm a weakling, don't you? Like I'm just some poor kid that got caught in the crossfire..". Stuart felt anger boiling up within him, but he managed to utter a few more words before he was consumed. "Believe it or not, Murdoc, I can handle the truth".

After a long moment of thought, Murdoc looked up at the younger man and gestured to the deep purple bruising around his eye, the small gash that ran along his pale cheek. "Just look at you". Stuart's jaw tightened, but he remained silent after that, his tearing eyes flickering across Murdoc's sullen face.

"I know you said you want to be there for me and whatever else but I can't let this happen again. Not to you, not to anyone". Murdoc was well aware that he wasn't exactly being sensitive, but deep down a part of him had resorted to putting the younger man off, make it so he wanted to leave. However, it seemed Murdoc's plea wasn't quite convincing enough, as Stuart responded with a hardened glare. 

"I get that Murdoc, I really do. But all of that is over now. Yeah, it was horrible and all but i'm not ready to go back to sodding Crawley..", Stuart held Murdoc's clasped hands, made the bassist return his gaze as he leaned a little closer. "We haven't had a proper chance at this Murdoc. Just give us a _chance_ ".

Murdoc swallowed, gazed up at Stuart through bleary eyes. He needed to be more direct. Despite the sudden nature of this thing he had with Stuart, this was the closest he had gotten to the beginnings of a relationship in years. He hadn't needed to negotiate his actions, never had to answer to anyone. A part of him wanted to end it now, shout his way out. But he _cared_ for Stuart, he really did. How could he have compromised himself like this? He wasn't made for commitment. All he had previously known was the brisk goodbye after a one-night stand.

 

He had to end it.

 

Murdoc slowly pulled his hands from Stuart's gentle grasp, looked the younger man in the eyes. "There is no us", he uttered. "In fact, I don't need you..not really". Stuart slowly shifted backwards, away from the man before him. The words buried themselves in his subconscious, played into every one of his insecurities. He looked to Murdoc with saddened eyes, and realised with stinging clarity that the man he so wanted to see was no longer in front of him.

What Stuart didn't know was that Murdoc was hurting just as deeply, and making eye contact with the other man was an increasingly uphill effort. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame about the whole thing, but if that was what it took for Stuart to leave-to be safe again, then that's what he would do. Murdoc knew deep within him that he needed to push Stuart away before anything worse happened, before there was truly no way out. Murdoc knew that no one could withstand a life like his, not without getting damaged. His sorry excuse for an existence was more than solid proof of that.

 

***

 

The drive home was tense. The two men did exchange short, fractured sentences, but a proper conversation between them suddenly felt like a distant memory. Stuart stole glances as Murdoc practically chain-smoked while he drove, rock music blaring from the radio. Stuart wondered what was going through the bassist's mind. Perhaps he would never know. Murdoc was being uncharacteristically aloof, and suddenly Stuart had time to think about everything.

He couldn't believe how stupid he was to agree to the whole thing. When Murdoc was a stranger and had proposed Newquay at the top of the ferris wheel, Stuart should have left it there and then. He should have listened to his parents, who he found himself missing beyond belief at this point. 

They had been right about Murdoc, and Stuart should have trusted their judgement. How could he have been so naive? As Stuart despondently gazed out of the rain-dotted side window, he found that the comfortable isolation of his childhood bedroom called to him more than ever before, like a remedy to a nightmare.

When Murdoc finally parked up outside Stuart's house, the goodbyes they said were short, stifled. Stuart then walked up the drive of his house, his steps ever so slightly unsure, his arms crossed. He so badly wanted to hug his mom and dad, but at the same time he couldn't bear the thought of how his parents might react. Perhaps they would lecture him on the whole thing, why it was a bad idea. Stuart didn't want to deal with being told how dumb he was for his decisions over the past few days, his mind had already scolded him enough.

Stuart knocked the door as he always did, in the style of that England football chant. They’d know who it was. However, his entire body felt heavy as he did so, and when his mom came to the door her facial expression was at first happiness, then concern when she noticed her son's badly bruised eye, which was now yellowing around the edge as it healed. "..Hi Mom", Stuart whispered, tears already teasing to fall at the corners of his eyes.

His mom brought out a shaking hand to delicately stroke the side of Stuart's face, and her son winced a little at the contact. Her eyes were glassy with tears at the sight of her son in pain. "What happened, Stu?", she uttered. Stuart didn't know how to begin answering that, so instead he brought out his arms and gently hugged his mother, who hugged him desperately back.

"I'll tell you soon. I'm tired", Stuart whispered into his mothers shoulder as they hugged. They then released each other slowly, and Stuart's mother moved aside to let her son into the house. She watched him walk slowly up the stairs after she closed the front door, her face riddled with concern.When she had heard Stuart's bedroom door shut, she instantly sought out her husband, who was outside gardening.

Stuart looked at his bedroom, still in the same mess it was when he left. The curtains were drawn despite it being the early afternoon, and the sun shining through the fabric cast the room in a deep blue glow as it always did. Stuart threw his jacket off before he slipped under his unruly duvet. The warmth welcomed him like a friend, and the tears he had been holding onto fell easily now he was alone. Now he was alone, he could confide in the comfort of silence, of darkness.

 

 

 

Murdoc had played his favourite Rolling Stones album the loudest the Winnie stereo would allow it to go as he drove after dropping Stuart home. Perhaps a part of him reasoned that the music would drown out his thoughts, and that part of him had been temporarily right. The nicotine made his hands shaky on the steering wheel, and when he finally parked up outside the nearest pub in Crawley he almost ran out of the Winnie, slamming the heavy door behind him.

The sky was a milky grey, the suns light only subtly peaking through the thickness of the clouds. The pub stood ahead of him like a beacon, and Murdoc succumbed to its offering of light. He had ordered a whole bottle of wine before he was fully aware, and sat on a table in the corner opposite a window. His gaze melancholic, his glass poured. Drunkenness felt his only way out, and really, it always had been. He was a hypocrite to believe that his late father's behaviour was only reflected in his older brother, because it now hung off of him like an omen. 

If Murdoc had learnt anything from these past few days, it was that there's no escaping one's past. No matter the intention, no matter how hard you try. Everything will come back to bite you at some point. The wine disappeared within the hour, and Murdoc's mind was soon comfortably clouded, slowed to a point where it could effectively dampen his misery. He blocked the thought of Stuart from his mind completely, focussed on the drink with all his fracturing energy.

And for a few hours, his ancient tactic worked. At one point, when the drunkenness had reached its timely peak, he got up to join a game of darts. However he couldn't throw well enough to hit the board, and after a few clumsy attempts the other men told him to leave. Murdoc shrugged them off with a grumbly "fuck off then!", and sat back down, heavy-handedly taking out his phone and placing it on the table before him.

The message upon it cut through his drunken state like a knife, instantly seizing his tortured gaze.

 

 

 

_I'm going to find you, Murdoc. You wait and see._

 

 

 

Stuart slept that night with stinging eyes, encased safely within his duvet. It wasn't the most restful of sleep, but it felt nice to be home, and when the morning came everything felt strange, as if he could easily convince himself that the whole thing had been a dream. If only that were the case-if only his waking thoughts could drift from Murdoc.

Stuart heard his bedroom door creak open not long after he had awoken, and the footsteps that neared his bed could be none other than his father's. The end of his bed sunk a little as his dad perched himself near Stuart's feet. Stuart wriggled a little in response, moved himself so he could see his dad by peaking through a gap in the duvet. He tried to tactically cover his bruises, but judging by the way his dad was looking at him, he wasn't doing the best job of it.

"I've got to go to work soon", his dad said feebly, trying casual conversation, despite the fact that his concerned gaze was fixed on his son. "Okay", Stuart answered, waiting for the question he was already expecting. "Stu, what happened to you?". There it was, Stuart thought, and he decided to sit up a little in bed, leaning on the frame behind him.

".. I..I got hurt", Stuart answered meekly. Stuart's dad gave a joyless laugh. "I can bloody see that". Stuart didn't really know how to respond, and so he fleetingly averted eye contact with his father, but his dad soon regained his attention when he leaned in and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Tell me the truth now, son. Was this that Murdoc fellow? Did he do this to you?".

That was difficult to answer, and Stuart found himself hesitant. Yes, he and Murdoc had left on bad terms, but there was still a part of Stuart that genuinely cared for the older man. Perhaps more than for his own good. "..No, dad. He didn't. I fell out the Winnie two days ago, mis-calculated the step". Stuart gave a small smile, tried to make the whole thing convincing. "Dunno how I managed it to be honest, but Murdoc was really helpful".

Stuart's dad gave a murmur of understanding before he leant back again, seemingly convinced. He mirrored his son's smile. "You always do that, you nonce", he chuckled, and Stuart jokingly shrugged. Well at least learning the art of lying was one benefit to meeting Murdoc. Stuart then watched his dad inspect his watch before briskly getting up from the bed. "Well i've got to get going then. Have a day in, Stu. You need it". Stuart's dad then made his way to the door, but stopped before he shut it on the other side.

"And Stu, whenever you feel ready you can come back and work the fair. Everyones missed you". Stuart nodded at this, his smile weak. "Of course dad", he replied. Stuart's dad then smiled widely, and went to shut the door before he heard his son speak up once again. "-love you", Stuart said. "Love you always", his dad replied before closing the bedroom door.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve now finished uni and couldnt be happier to post a new chapter! (Although its kinda a sad one lol). Thanks to those who comment and have stuck around, and now i have more time to update so yey


	14. Chapter 14

“You’re back”

 

“...yeah I am, Chlo”

 

“Already?”

Stuart sighed, his breaths appearing like smoke as they met the cold winter air. “It wasn’t meant to be for a long time anyway”. Chloe looked quizzical at this, the neon lights of the fairground bouncing playfully upon her youthful face. “What happened to your eye though? It looks kind of bruised”. Stuart leant back on the podium behind him holding up the bumper cars track. He had to tell someone. What happened to him a week ago had been playing on his mind almost consistently. Like a horrid virus wreaking havoc in his system. If there was anyone he could trust, it was Chloe. She was the closest thing he had to a best friend.

“Turns out Murdoc had a lot of... baggage”, he uttered. Chloe folded her arms. “The guy did look dodgy Stu, I feel bad for not telling you”. Stuart shakily fiddled with a pair of extra keys he had on a chain in his hands. “Don’t feel bad. I was dumb..”. Stuart then looked pensive for a few moments as he twirled the keys on the chain, before he was struck with a sudden realisation. “He didn’t..do this to me by the way”, he practically blurted.

“Oh, well that’s the impression I was getting”, Chloe responded, looking a little suspicious. “No, no. Of course not, bloody-nora”, Stuart voiced upon a relieved exhale. He knew he had to clear the air, and so looked behind where they were standing to gauge whether there was a queue forming at the steps to the dodgems. Stuart was happy to find that there was no one there, and judged by the way faint red and dark blue light tinted the clouds in the sky that the night was still young. He had time to tell her, but not a lot.  
  
Stuart gestured to his bruised eye, which was healing nicely- although obviously still visible going by the many curious looks he had been getting from colleagues lately. “This..this was done to me by Murdoc’s crazy older brother and his two weirdo henchmen. I was scared stiff”. Chloe couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “His brother’s a psycho? Why would he punch you? How did he find you guys?”.

Stuart then proceeded in telling the whole story, not missing a detail out, not even the sex. Chloe was astonished by the whole thing, and when Stuart had finished, the words just fell from her mouth. “Good lord, Stu. What a load of drama. It was right that you ended things with that freak when you did to be honest”. Stuart put his hands in his pockets, fleetingly checking whether there was a queue forming before then looking back at Chloe with a sullen expression. “...The ending is the confusing part. I know it’s stupid, but I wouldn’t have ended it there. We got along so well.. he just took me home out of nowhere, like throwing out the rubbish or something”.

“Wait-“, Chloe vocalised, looking curiously at the young man before her. “-you still have feelings for him? After _that_?”. Stuart averted eye contact, feeling a sudden rush of guilt. “I don’t know anything anymore. It messes me up in the head just thinking about it. We got along so well at the beginning...”. Chloe’s expression hardened instantly. “Stop that right there”, she ordered. Stuart furrowed his brows at her tone.

“What?”.

“That”, she responded. “Murdoc was not right for you in the slightest. You’re still young, and he looked as though he was hitting like..forty. He was just some creep who hanged around the fair and preyed on innocent looking guys. If he was ever planning on taking the thing you two had seriously, he probably would have warned you about the psycho brother thing _before_ you packed up and left for Newquay”. Chloe looked thoughtful for a moment. “Plus, I swear I saw him at the pub last week, acting like a right mess”.

Stuart didn’t even try to hide his shock. “You saw him? Why didn’t you tell me?”. Chloe shrugged. “I wasn’t completely sure. I was only glancing at him cos I was out with my family. But he had the black _Keith Richards_ hair and the leather jacket and all that. I just had my doubts because you and him were meant to be in Newquay at that point. I thought it didn’t make sense”. The idea that Murdoc may still be in Crawley entered Stuart’s mind, and he immediately needed to know more.

“Sounds like him. What was he doing?”, he inquired, trying not to sound desperate. Chloe then explained how Murdoc had been flat-out drunk the entire time she was there. How he tried to play darts but nearly hit a barman, shouting loud enough for the entire pub to hear after he was disqualified. Apparently for a long while after that he had laid face-foreword on the wooden table before him, hiding in his crossed arms. Chloe couldn’t tell at the time if he was sleeping or quietly sobbing. Everything pointed to this being the bassist, and Stuart could almost laugh with the shock of it all, but the sentiment was extremely bitter-sweet when he remembered how they had ended it.

“He left in a big hurry, me and my family thought he was trying to get out of paying for something”, Chloe explained. That was strange, Stuart judged, but then again, was anything strange when it came to Murdoc? What was normal for the bassist was not too dissimilar to what Stuart would watch on bloody _Coronation Street._ Stuart didn’t have much time to react to this, as he soon heard the man controlling the dodgems in the little booth not far away shout his name.

There was a queue forming now, and Stuart had to get back to work. His thoughts dissipated and suddenly the fairground music felt like it was blaring from the speakers above him. He managed a quick “Talk to you later, Chlo”, before he jogged briskly to the dodgems entrance. He had to get used to all of this again. Maybe the incessant bustle of a busy fairground was what he needed right now. The moments he had to think were few and far between, and therefore his thoughts didn’t settle on Murdoc again after this exchange. Not for the entire shift.

The days went by quickly, and soon enough it had been months since those fateful few days. Stuart became accustomed once again to his previous life, the pull towards routine, and his mind almost switched back to auto-pilot. Most days he worked the fair, he came back home late with his father after closing up, and then he salvaged some dinner from what was lying around in the fridge and ate it while sat on his bed, the time verging on midnight.

Stuart couldn’t admit it to himself for a long time, but his experience with Murdoc left him sort of jaded. He had tried to go on a date with another guy in those months, someone who was a friend of Chloe’s, but his date found Stuart too closed off with him, complained that the whole night had seemed ‘forced and unnatural’. Maybe that epitomised how Stuart had been feeling lately. Forced and unnatural.

His birthday passed like clockwork and becoming twenty three didn’t come with the crushing weight that twenty two had. His increasing in age no longer felt like a warning sign that he had to experience new things, go somewhere in life; he actually didn’t feel a thing towards it. Perhaps there was a problem there. Like Stuart had plunged so deep into a life of predictability that any sort of occasion like a birthday was met with numbness, by a mind perpetually dulled. He needed to try and be content, even if contentment felt a far-off goal. He needed to _feel_ something again.

 

 

*The day after Stuart was taken home*

Murdoc unpeeled his face from the pillow below him. He hadn’t even opened his eyes before he realised his mouth was so dry he could barely swallow. The pungent tang of wine still played with his taste buds, and his need for water was unbelievable. Murdoc knew then that he was horribly hungover, and when he eventually sat up in bed his dormant headache rattled within his skull; he winced with every sickening pulse.

He didn’t even want to think about the night prior. Drunkenness and Murdoc’s almost constant emotional turmoil were a perfect match in some respects. If perfect meant that the combination nearly always lead to embarrassment; To stupid, haphazardly made decisions...to regret. There was no time for regret.

Murdoc leant over to his bedside table, grabbed hold of his lighter and an unused stray cigarette beside it. His headache throbbed with the movement as he stilled himself enough to light it while he balanced the cigarette between his sharp teeth. He then absentmindedly stared out of the window a moment, watching the trees shake with the force of the wind outside, rattling against the pane as the smoke escaped the end of his cig in a snaking stream towards the Winnies roof.

The pub was a little distance away, but he could see the gold, slightly degraded lettering across the middle of the building. The people sat inside, probably having breakfast...or lunch. It seemed that Murdoc’s concept of time had escaped him when he had taken his first swig of wine the day before. But he knew from the vision of that pub and the smattering of evergreen trees outside that he was still in Crawley. He couldn’t stay here forever. He had too much history here now. He had to find his anonymity again, know streets that he could walk without fear of being noticed, without the possibility of bumping into witnesses of his own haphazardly lived life. Really, there was no time for anything but moving on from this place.

Murdoc lay his lighter on the bedside table again while gripping his cigarette in his mouth, making sure his movements were smooth and slow, so as not to awaken the throbs of pain in his head again. He then pushed the bed covers away from him and got out of bed, making no effort to adjust his mess of unruly black hair. The drivers seat of the Winnebago called to him as he plodded barefoot towards it, and when he finally sunk into its leather surface he couldn’t have felt more relieved, almost excited. A new town was on the horizon for him. He didn’t need a map. A map seemed like a thing of pure irony in a life already so directionless. Right now, all Murdoc needed was the promise of the open motor-way.

He looked out at the wind wrestling the trees, how the sunlight that managed to escape the clouds fell dappled upon the surface of the road before him. He wouldn’t miss it here. Even Newquay he had now confined to memory. He promised himself soon after that day that he would never set foot on that beach again, never taste the salty air, look upon that sodding pub where his dad used to take him and Hannibal. He’d promised himself to leave Stuart be. Unlike Murdoc, Stuart had a life ahead of him, a life in which a hopeless, greedy old bassist had no place.

He turned the key and the engine started upon Murdoc jamming the pedal inwards with his foot, the soft rumble that ensued being a new kind of music to his listening ears. It was hard to get lost in this little island that he called home, but he would try and come the closest to it. No more than two days in each place, he bargained with himself. Like a proper life on the road.

His bandmates could bugger off for now. If anything, they were more accustomed to Murdoc’s multitude of no-shows than him actually being there on stage with them at this point. Murdoc soon decided to empty his mind with music, and flicked the radio on before him. People walking the pavements turned as the Winnie rumbled with guitars and booming drums, leaning on its hinges as it screeched wildly out of sight.

 

  
Murdoc drove for eight or nine hours that day. He soon lost count, but when the sign that read ‘Welcome to Edinburgh’ passed by he found himself resolute that Edinburgh would be the first stop. He clutched onto the wheel as he drove the unfamiliar roads of a cobblestone-padded city riddled with medieval architecture while dusk loomed in the distance. Gazing at the steeples through the side window of the Winnie, the well-dressed people walking by, the drizzle pattering against the pavements and shimmering with the cities reflection upon the smooth stone surface. A perfect place to stay for two nights, he thought. A city brimming with potential.

Murdoc parked the Winnie at a car park on the outskirts of the central part of Edinburgh, and then walked into the city, the sky mostly an ominous shade of blue-black with a line of faint red where the suns residual light still lingered on the horizon. His cuban heels clacked against the stone pavements, and he noticed the women walking towards him cross the road to avoid walking by him on the same stream of pavement. Honestly, he couldn’t blame them. He looked a state, and the dimness of the streetlights meant that night prevailed as he strode. He would cross the road too if he saw someone like him approaching on a dark night like this.

Murdoc so wanted a proper meal. Not like the greasy take-aways, boring tins of beans or microwave meals he was wearily accustomed to these days. He needed a hearty meal. Murdoc had been walking for around fifteen minutes when he finally found a suitable restaurant. He had heard it before he saw it, the live music from inside pouring out of the windows, tearing through the calm of night. Murdoc examined its blackening brick-work, the exposed wooden beams that held the building together- albeit maintained its slightly jaunty, slanted appearance. Like something from a flipping kids book. It was perfect.

The crashing of drums assaulted his ears as he entered, and Murdoc eventually sat at a table on the second floor, looking over the balcony near him to watch the band play as he waited for his food. He promised himself that the wine glass before him would remain empty. He’d had enough of the stuff.. at least for now. Below the surface he was all too aware that his bond with alcohol was just a bit too strong to break after just one bad night.

When his food arrived-a mountain of mashed potato topped with a huge curved sausage, Murdoc almost grinned with delight. There was already a generous serving of gravy on it, but when the waitress set the gravy boat by him Murdoc uttered a grumbly “thanks, kid” before he picked it up immediately and poured more over. Watching his meal become drowned in the stuff. The waitress frowned before she turned and walked back towards the stairs to the first floor of the restaurant. 

As he ate, Murdoc eyed the band keenly. They were playing some heavy Pink Floyd number, the lead singer a large balding man, leaning over the microphone as he gripped it with two huge, sweaty hands. No matter how much he tried to fight it, it was a huge compulsion of Murdoc’s to spend the whole time examining the bassist. Murdoc observed her stance, how her fingers plucked at the strings, the way her other hand slid up and down the fret-board with a certain effortlessness. Murdoc didn’t even know where his bass was at this point, and the assumption that his bandmates had it was instantly trumped by the fact that his friendship with them was hanging by a mere thread. But he missed old ‘El Diablo’ more than ever while watching that bassist playing her Hofner type.

They played a few more songs, all with slow and heavy rhythms. At times the drummer looked as though he was in some kind of semi-lucid trance, as he kept his eyes tight shut and brought the sticks up, only to then pound them down again with a steady vigour upon the skin of the drums before him. Murdoc soon found himself humming along to one of the songs when he had finished eating. He knew it very vaguely, and although he was never a huge Pink Floyd fan, in the 70s Murdoc couldn’t really avoid hearing them while skimming through LP’s at the record shops dotted around central Hanley.

It was in this fleeting, almost content moment that Murdoc found himself hit by a flood of memory. Hannibal had been a huge Pink Floyd fan in his teens, still is infact. The dreary bastard. Murdoc used to feel the floor of his bedroom rumble with the beat as Hannibal’s Pink Floyd records thundered through the house every evening when they were young.

Murdoc used to try and drown it out with a record of his own, but it never fully worked, and the sound of heavy metal meeting soft rock intertwined inevitably into a ball of sonic chaos. Back then Murdoc didn’t dare ask Hannibal to turn his music down though. That hadn’t been an option after the first time he had tried it and ended up with bruises dappling his arms and torso.

With this unwanted memory of his childhood with Hannibal, Murdoc soon remembered the text he had received last night. The memory was in his mind amongst a foggy haze of general drunkenness, but the feeling of intense dread that had hit him prevailed within his muddled brain. This was Murdoc’s fresh start, and the fact that he was even thinking about his deranged brother when he had almost felt content frustrated him to his core. He couldn’t keep living like this.

Murdoc pulled his phone from where it had dutifully sat in the pocket of his leather jacket, switched it on and began sweeping through his contacts. When his finger finally hovered upon the name ‘Hannibal’, he blocked it on sight. He then slowly released his fingers from the screen, suddenly becoming aware of how he had been holding his breath, and with the relief of knowing that his brother could contact him no longer he let a prolonged exhale escape his tense lips. That was the end of it. It only took him nearly a sodding year to get the courage to do it, and now he had it felt so stupid to have put off an act so simple for so long.

He became aware of the music playing below him once again, but just before he put his phone down, Murdoc found himself searching for another name in his contacts. However, when he got to the ‘S’ section, the name was nowhere to be seen. Stuart had blocked him. He deserved as much, Murdoc judged. But the finality of it struck him like a punch in the face. Like an ending to a story that hadn’t truly begun.

 

  
*Months later, in the midst of summer*

The house was silent. The early hours of the morning enforced a calm that made the building feel empty, as if in stasis. Stuart’s parents slept peacefully, and the birds outside were quietly preparing to sing and chatter with the breaking cusp of dawn. However, the quiet was soon broken when the front door opened and slowly closed, the sound of it rattling to a halt within its frame filling the hallway, gliding up the neatly carpeted staircase.

Stuart winced a little at the level of noise he was making, quietly willing the sound of the door behind him to subside. When the house finally grew silent again, he breathed a subtle sigh of relief before beginning to ascend the staircase, his hand clumsily clutching the banister to the side of him.

It had been a long night, and the throws of drunkenness still played with his equilibrium as he made for his bedroom, the door of it left slightly ajar like a welcome invitation. Chloe’s birthday party had been as crazy as he expected it to be. She was never one to waste an opportunity to drink oneself into the ground, to make rash decisions in the deceivingly safe atmosphere that the dead of night provided. It was like nothing that happened mattered. Like the party had existed in its own bubble, separate from the rules of the outside world.

Stuart slowly opened the door, stripped to just his boxers and plummeted into his bed. After a few seconds of stillness, he then wriggled into a more comfortable foetal position below the covers. He’d kissed someone tonight. A friend of Chloe’s. It was nothing more than a sloppy, drunken kiss in the corner of a darkened living room but he knew the memory of it would irk him tomorrow. He just hoped the other guy would leave it there, wouldn’t feel compelled to get in contact with Stuart again or worse- ask for more. Only time would provide clarity on the situation, but for now Stuart could rely on the safety of sleep to dull his flitting thoughts.

 

Stuart was awoken in the late morning by the sound of rain clattering against the window pane above the head of his bed. The gloomy day light that managed to enter the room through the gaps in his bedraggled curtains fell like a mist, filling the space with a soft shade of grey. He blinked in between the bed covers, then grunted as he stretched his legs out fully, feeling that pleasurable pull in his muscles.

There was no reason to get out of bed. It was the weekend, and by the sound of the clatter of pots and pans downstairs in the kitchen below him, his mother was still in the process of making lunch for them all. For once, Stuart didn’t have to leave the comfort of his bed. Not for hauling himself to work, not for anything. Stuart blinked hard against the dryness of his eyes. Although he had felt no signs of a hangover yet, he was fairly thirsty. But that could wait for now.

Instead, he reached over and grasped the remote of his TV that lay at the far end of his bedside table, fumbling with it a bit due to his movements being made heavy by sleep before he clumsily pressed the on button. After a few moments, the TV flicked on and the sound of a cooking program filled the room. Stuart screwed his nose up a little and flicked the channel until it landed on football, the buzzing cheer of the crowd awakening his senses. He was set for the day now. Happily surrendering to the comfort that the TV and the embrace of his bed covers provided.

“Stu? Ah, you’re awake”

Stuart’s eyes instantly diverted from the glare of the TV screen to the space behind it, which was now filled with his father’s form. His dad was in tracksuit bottoms and a baggy T-shirt, the type of clothes he’d usually wear when he was gardening. He held a glass of water. “Good night last night?”, he asked casually. Stuart’s voice came out a little croaky, which surprised him for a moment before he remembered how much he had drank the night prior.

“Yeah. It was fun. Chloe always holds good parties...she should plan mine”. His dad laughed. “I think she should too, considering you never get past the stage where you actually _invite_ people. A party doesn’t happen out of thin air you know”. Stuart grinned, he was renowned in his friendship circle for failing at organising things to do on his birthday- or any other occasion for that matter. They always ended up as surprise parties because Chloe became impatient with Stuart’s lack of drive or just three or four people sat on the floor drinking and chatting casually until the early hours of the morning in his living room. He did nothing for his latest birthday. He probably needed to work on that.

Stuart’s dad walked further into the room and placed the cup of water he had been holding on the bedside table. He then lingered a little near Stuart’s bed, scratching his head in thought a moment with a somewhat vacant expression. He looked like he was about to say something but the words wouldn’t make themselves known. Stuart gave a quizzical look. “What is it?”, he asked. Stuart’s dad looked to his son. “I was gonna say something else.. but i’ve forgotten it”. Stuart gave a small smile while he proceeded to lay down and wriggled within the bedsheets, quietly amused. “Well I guess it’s a mystery now”, Stuart uttered, looking to the TV to check the score.

His dad waited a few more moments, but then, when he had accepted defeat, began to make for the bedroom door. However, with his dad’s back now turned, Stuart had a pretty good guess at what it had been. “Was it about that letter in your pocket?”, Stuart asked curiously. His father was quick to grab the letter from the back pocket of his trousers. “Yes it was!”, he voiced cheerily before stepping forward and gently throwing it onto Stuart’s bed. “It’s for you. Lunch is nearly ready by the way”, he said before walking casually out of the room.

Stuart leant up on his elbows, scanning the bedcovers to see where the letter had landed. He never received letters, unless it was that letter he received annually from the doctors about an eyesight check up. A part of him couldn’t be bothered to find out, and when he had located the letter, which was laying on the covers in between his feet, his gaze flicked momentarily back to the TV to check the football.

But then he looked again. His name was written in a kind of scrawl in the middle of the envelopes surface, not in printed text as the doctors would. It looked very poorly written, like the writer had either written it in a hurry or had one drink too many. The lettering of Stuart’s name was small however, the ink thick, each letter appearing jagged and abrasive. Stuart’s curiosity peaked as he examined the curious slip of paper that lay silently across from him. It was almost as if the letter stared back, testing him.

After a moment of thought, Stuart grunted as he leaned over and grasped the letter, furrowing his brows at it. Upon closer inspection part of a brown ring left by the base of a mug overfilled with either coffee or tea peaking in the left corner became apparent. A late birthday card from a forgotten relative? No, that didn’t make sense. He didn’t  _have_ enough relatives to forget. Stuart had no other plausable guesses, and going by the fact that his only one didn’t quite add up in his working mind, he carefully ripped into the envelope and pulled the letter out.

The desperation to immediately know who it was from directed his gaze to the bottom of the paper, where his eyes stilled upon a single name. Stuart felt his breaths quicken, a burst of nervous energy filling his form, making his finger-tips tingle as he held the paper, his heart instantly thrusting into a double time rhythm.

Two words. Two words and they made Stuart feel almost sick as his eyes scanned them over and over, like a desperate attempt to somehow make sense of it all. The lettering was clear enough, but still somehow they twisted and turned into tendrils that penetrated Stuart’s every budding coherent thought.

  
It was from Murdoc Niccals.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

That letter wasn’t the only one to slip into Stuart’s unsure hands. Every month, around the same day even, another innocent slip of paper would fall like a feather through the letter box and skitter across the floor. The paper was always in an unruly state, Stuart’s name written in a lavish sort of scrawl across the surface. Drawing Stuart’s gaze, luring his fingers towards the space where the envelope was tucked haphazardly into itself. However, Stuart could never bring himself to open a single one.

That first letter felt like a bomb as he perched on his bed, holding it with an air of fragility. Seeing Murdoc’s name at the end was but the deciding factor. Stuart knew he could not deal with the words that Murdoc had written to him. Not now. Perhaps not ever. All of that happened months ago, and in the midst of trying his utmost to forget about the bassist, Murdoc had injected himself back into the younger man’s life with as much brashness as he had entered it. With the same resounding bang that left Stuart rattled, ill and broken. Stuart had averted his eyes from the letter, screwed them tight as he held his breath, silently willing himself that what he was about to do was for his own good. He had then slipped the letter carefully back into the envelope and pressed it neatly shut.

He had about five of them now, and like a dedicated collector, he piled them in the bottom draw of his bureau. They resided there for months, brimming with silenced words, unfelt emotions... the quelled potential to sway Stuart’s mind. However, although the words they held stayed unread, different versions of the letters circulated in Stuart’s dreams, like a mobile lulls a child to sleep. With the opened chest of his changed consciousnessness, sleep allowed his mind to wander.. to yearn. Those dreams were never recounted when Stuart awoke. Some things were better left forgotten.

However, the imagination can never be contained. Not fully. And Stuart discovered this one night a few months later when his dreams took him back to the day that he and Murdoc walked hand in hand on the beach. In his mind’s eye he saw Murdoc again, clear as day in front of him. Close enough to touch. He saw the sea wind playing with the older man’s hair. The way he smiled up at him with a confidence that Stuart had never encountered before. It was a smile that brought with it assurance- an assurance that everything would be okay. That when life frayed and unravelled, this moment, witnessing this smile, could weave it all back together. The kiss had been like a message between two individuals, mutually and delicately promising security to one another. Moments as special as those always lurk in one’s subconscious, and reliving it in his dreams that night proved too much for Stuart to handle all at once.

Stuart awoke in the dead of night to utter darkness, realising his hands were clasped hard around the quilt that lay over him. He let out a deep exhale before turning to lay on his back, peaking his head fully out of the bed covers. He couldn’t believe that Murdoc was still on his mind. And not only that, but the memories were still so tangible that they came in a wave of sensory information as he dreamt. However, there was a difference in the way Stuart felt about it tonight. Suddenly he wanted Murdoc so badly it wrenched at his gut, made his tear ducts brim. Stuart didn’t let a single tear fall though. He just knew he needed Murdoc to occupy his waking thoughts once again.

That momentous realisation was a signal for his body to snap back into a state of upright alertness. Stuart then leant over, and his hands were clumsy and desperate as they pulled the drawer open and brought up a pile of Murdoc’s five letters.

Stuart flicked a light on and stared at them all on his lap. The beginnings of a smile was on his lips as he decided which one to read first. From the amount of visible ageing, Stuart could recognise which letter was oldest, and so he decided he was going to take a chronological stance on unlocking the paper’s long-held secrets. 

 

 

 

Dear Stu,

 

Right. I’m writing letters now.... I never thought i’d be this guy but hell, here I am putting pen to paper in a little pub in Armadale. I feel like a proper ponsk, but if this is the only way I can contact you then so be it.

I’m at the very tip of the country. Drove up here in a bit of a daze, really. I’ve been living a life on the road after what happened between us. The Winnebago engine never gets to cool down and it’s pretty freeing. Perhaps you don’t care about this... perhaps you hate my guts at this point. Wouldn’t be surprised. We left on such a bum note, I wouldn’t be shocked if you would rather never hear of me again.. Scotland has been good to me though, Stu. The clean air has probably made me dizzy enough to feel like writing this stupid letter to you will make any difference. You would love it here though. You would.

I don’t really know what else to say so i’ll leave you with a quote from the late great Aleister Crowley:

_‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law’_

..Not actually relevant here but I like it nonetheless.

Yours,

Murdoc.

 

 

 

Dear Stu,

 

It’s your least favourite nomad again. Those three or so weeks in Scotland were just as lonesome as they were necessary. I power up the Winnie and drive somewhere new every two days now- and i’m not gonna pretend that a large part of doing that is to avoid you-know-who tracking me down again. I try not to think about him Stu, but my mind replays what he did to you like a bloody broken tape at night.

I’m in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne now. I went to a festival here once when I was a lad- popped so many pills one of those nights that I passed out over someone’s tent after seeing _The Undertones_. I’d like to say i’ve changed since then. I really would. There are some rough areas around here, but hey, nostalgia is a pretty powerful thing. Takes you all over the flipping shop- as we both are far too aware of.

I’m knocking about here for a bit before I head down south. I’ll make sure to give the ‘Welcome to Stoke-On-Trent’ sign the finger when I pass it on the motorway. I hope you’re doing well, Stuart.

I wish you could answer me.

Yours,

Murdoc.

 

 

Dear Stu,

 

You wouldn’t believe where I am right now. Drove down to Wales last night, parked my Winnie at the entrance of a little forest trail in the Brecon Beacons. Well, this morning I walked that trail, and eventually it led me to none other than the base of one of the largest pissing hills for miles...so I climbed it.

My severe lack of impulse control has led me to the top of a huge sodding hill, where i’m now sat writing this stupid letter like a gothic _John Keats._ Its been two and a half months and I don’t even know if you’ve read one of these. You could’ve been whacking each one into the shredder for all I know. Though, that won’t stop me from sending them.

If I really looked inwards, maybe i’m doing this because I feel a burning need to apologise to you. But I’ve always been shit at reconciling. I’ve always ran away from anyone in my life that didn’t have bad intentions for me. Maybe it’s because being treated like a piece of shit is way easier to handle for me than being..well, liked.

I didn’t deserve the care that you showed me Stuart. 

Yours,

Murdoc.

 

 

Dear Stu,

 

I’m pretty fucked. Not gonna lie to you. But i’m not one of those twats that pretends they can’t write when they’re drunk either. Almost an entire bottle of rum in and i’m still pretty coherent! You can chalk it up to experience.

Met with my bandmates again in Bristol... and, well you know what Bristol is like... lovely place, especially if you consider a cesspit of drugs, partying and general adulterous mayhem a good time. We actually just finished playing a gig together, and it went pretty well- albeit for my skills on the bass being far too rusty for my liking. Thought drinking throughout would oil my fingers up a little, if you catch my drift.

I wonder what you’re doing now. What kind of life you’re leading. I always wonder if your life would fit with mine...but mostly my brain warns me not to think too much about that. We’re very different people, and I don’t necessarily want to corrupt you or anything. You have a good, cosy life. But.. part of me thinks you have a wild side. If I could go back to that day we met, I’d make it so Hannibal never got mixed into the whole thing. I’d make it so I could’ve just whisked you away, no deranged family members, no blasted interruptions. Just us. 

What i’m trying to say in the midst of this rambling nonsense is that we fitted together quite well. And i’m sorry for making it turn out irrevocably shit. 

Yours,

Murdoc.

 

PS. that’s as soppy as i’ll ever be so don’t get used to it.

 

  

Dear Stu,

 

I’m back with the band- officially now. We’ve been pissing about in London between shows for a few weeks since I last wrote. We are working on fixing up our second album, but so far none of us can agree on a flipping name for the thing. Too many egos in one band, I say. We’re like the Stones if the whole band was just four _Mick Jaggers_.

Anyway, i’m getting off topic.

I’m so close to Crawley now, I could easily come visit you. But perhaps, after a year and a half you wouldn’t be too fond of the idea. Me on the other hand, i’d be all in. I’m pretty fed up of the uncertainty, Stuart. I can’t keep worrying about whether you’re actually reading these, whether you even still like me. I even get paranoid that you’ve moved house and some random has been receiving my letters instead, for Satan’s sake.

I think it’s time we talk again, yeah? Can we start from the beginning? I steal that pick’n’mix and you chase after me like you’re South London’s answer to bloody _Usain Bolt_ and then we just flirt like teenagers for the rest of the evening. I’d like that. I need to hear your voice.

Remember, you can unblock my number any time you like.

 

... but preferably soon. 

 

Yours,

Murdoc.

 

 

Stuart stared at that last letter for a long time, his thoughts twisting and curling in his mind. This was the most conflicted he’d felt in a while, but although he couldn’t form a single coherent thought, the small, humble smile on his face was clear as day.

He read and reread the last paragraph of that final letter. He could hear Murdoc’s voice so loudly in those words, it was like he was in the room with him. The letters had certainly moved him to some degree, and Stuart had been wondering endlessly about what Murdoc was doing these days. It seemed the thieving, lying scoundrel he had known was pretty much gone. Replaced with someone thoughtful, passionate... in his own way of course.

However the voice of reason in Stuart’s head prevailed, and he didn’t let himself feel anything too substantial. Not yet.

He had to call Murdoc first.

Stuart needed to hear Murdoc’s voice just as much as evidently, Murdoc needed to hear his. However, a call was simply a call- A type of communication void of any real commitment. Stuart knew he needed the comfort of being able to cut the conversation off if need be. And the chances of things turning sour were pretty high, considering he had a condition- something Murdoc had no choice but doing if Stuart was to let the other man back into his life.

This wouldn’t be easy, but like a man going into battle, Stuart reached for his phone. Anxiety burned within his chest as he scrolled through his contacts, unblocked Murdoc’s number and dialled. The dark stillness that followed reminded Stuart that it was still the early hours of the morning, and remembering that his parents were asleep, Stuart slipped under his bedcovers to help stifle the sound of the ringer.

Murdoc’s voice cut through the silence immediately after that, and Stuart’s eyes widened a little at the fact that he’d actually picked up. His voice was croakier than usual, his syllables heavy with sleep.

“No way... you actually did it?...Stu? You unblocked me?”

Stuart couldn’t believe this was actually happening as he carefully responded. His tone was guarded. “Yes, Murdoc. I read your letters”.

Silence for a few moments.

“.....I meant every word of those letters. Even though I sounded like a right sap....”, Murdoc paused a moment, and Stuart could hear the sound of his bedcovers shifting, as presumably, Murdoc sat up in his bed. “Trust you to call about this at bloody 3am, Stu”. The smile he had on his face was more than apparent in his words.

Stuart smiled a little. “Yeah..erm, sorry about that. What you said in those letters was really nice, Murdoc. Not sappy, I promise”.

“Well that’s fucking good to hear. How have you been, Stu? It’s been.. ages. Too long”.

“I’ve been alright. Working the fair again. Same old dodgems”

“Still?”

“Yeah, still. Not much has changed in my life over this past year or so.. seems like a lot has in yours though, Murdoc. I’m really happy for you. Where are you now?”.

“Ah, my bandmates are still pretty stubborn, but we are working things out. I’m in Liverpool at the moment. Couldn’t park the Winnie near the venue so i’m in some dingy hotel a walk away from the port”.

“I love Liverpool”, Stuart chimed. “Playing the Cavern Club perchance?”

Murdoc’s laugh was as loud as ever. “I wish! We are playing a club down the street from it though”. 

Stuart smiled at this, while Murdoc thought a moment on the other side of the line. His sudden shift in tone when he spoke up took Stuart by surprise.

“...I’ve missed you. A lot. If you want to come up to Liverpool or something... well, i’d be happy to let you stay in the Winnie again. I’m so.. so so sorry about being such a _dick_ the day I took you home”. 

Stuart gave this some thought, making sure his response was measured. He so wanted to blurt about all the ups and downs he’d had since they’d parted ways, the extent to which he’d missed the other man... but he had to keep his composure.

“...Murdoc. I have something I need to ask you about. It’s pretty important”.

“What?”

“Is Hannibal still out there? Have you seen him since that day?”

Murdoc frowned at the phone. “No. I never want to see that bastard again. Why? What are you getting at?”

Stuart swallowed. “..I want to see you again, Murdoc. Badly. I’d love to start from the beginning like you wrote in your letters. But first, I need you to sort things out with Hannibal. You have to give what’s left of the money back. Apologise to him.. whatever will make it so he leaves you alone for good”.

There was a long bout of silence. Long enough to prompt Stuart to speak up again anxiously.

“Did you hear that?”

Murdoc exhaled loudly. “...It’s too early in the morning for this. I need a cigarette”.

Stuart pushed for a response, his heart rate quickening. “Murdoc, please. No dancing around the subject. Will you do it?”

Stuart heard the flick of a lighter, and Murdoc answered with a smoking cigarette between his teeth.

“Stu. Let’s be reasonable here. Yes, I could give him the money back but that won’t make it all hunky dory. Hannibal is the _king_ of holding grudges, and he’s not gonna let me go without punching me into the next life. In the past, I liked to think I stood a chance in a scrap with him but last time was one hell of a knock back to reality. He’s a fucking Goliath, Stu!”

Stuart couldn’t stifle his disappointment. However, he kept pushing. “ _Please_. I won’t be meeting with you again if you don’t. I just can’t risk it. Your brother may be nuts but if you just give him what he wants i’m sure he’ll leave you alone. It can be a trade off. No funny business, no remarks. Just hand him the money and say sorry”.

“This is far too optimistic”

“How?”

“I’ve known Hannibal as long as i’ve been on this god forsaken earth and I assure you- the man can’t be reasoned with”

Stuart sighed, and the weight of utter hopelessness made him weak as he held the phone to his ear. However, as Stuart had began to consider how he would end this exchange, Murdoc broke the silence with a subtle epiphany.

“...unless I find a way to put him back in prison”

Stuart allowed Murdoc time to think on this, and when the other man spoke up again it was more like a stream of consciousness than an exchange.

“But how would I do it? He’s definitely on their wanted list fordrug smuggling, but how in hell would I manage to get him nicked again? He’s an oversized dope, don’t get me wrong. But with his two weirdo mates at his side he’s not an easy one to trap...I could getmyself arrested again in the process”

Stuart piped up, self-conscious trepidation evident in his voice. This wasn’t really his area, but he really wanted to help. “How about you frame him somehow? ...like, make it so the police find him somewhere that you organised to meet or something”.

“Hm... could work”. Murdoc then considered Stuart’s proposal further as he stubbed his finished cigarette on the ashtray beside his bed. “That’s actually an alright idea, but I really do need to consider the ins and outs of it.  But for now, if this is what it takes to have you in my life again.. then i’ll do it. But if he kills me on the spot you’re the one who’s gonna have to break the news to each of my bandmates before our next gig”.

Stuart felt instantly relieved, but a twinge of worry for Murdoc soon made itself known. A paranoid part of him felt as though Murdoc’s fear of his older brother could possibly prove stronger than his need to be with Stuart again. He decided that he needed to allow the older man time to really consider this.

“Thank you, Murdoc. I know you’ll find a way.. preferably _without_ getting yourself killed”, he quietly joked. 

“...Easy for you to say. You’ll be sat on your arse at home the entire time. But i’ll think about it. Work on a plan once i’ve got some sleep”.

Stuart felt calmness wash over him, and he lay on his side in bed, relaxing into the duvet. It was nice talking to Murdoc again. Almost felt like Murdoc was lying there next to him. Stuart stretched before sinking once again into the warmth. 

“Sleep sounds good right now”, Stuart muttered, his eyes closing. A residual smile on his lips.

“I agree. Goodnight Stuart”, Murdoc whispered, sounding equally as tired.

“Night Murdoc”, Stuart quietly replied. However, a few moments of lingering silence followed, with both men eventually realising that they couldn’t quite bring themselves to hang up. Stuart let out a weak giggle.

“Murdoc?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you..can you stay on the line? Just for tonight?”

Murdoc smiled as he got comfortable between the sheets.

“... Of course Stu”. 

 

 

 

Stuart awoke early to the sound of his dad knocking on his door, letting him know it was time to get ready for work. Stuart stretched in his bed, mumbling a feeble “alright, i’m up”, before he relaxed back into the bed sheets beside his phone, which was balanced on his pillow. Stuart heard Murdoc snoring on the other line, and the younger man smiled at the sound. “Bye Murdoc”, Stuart whispered, making sure not to wake the other man. He then hung up and hurriedly got dressed.

The impending nine hour shift didn’t seem to weigh on him as much as it usually did in the mornings. He felt lighter after last night, like the frayed ends left from those few days one and half years ago had been tied back together. This feeling was welcomed, and soon mixed with the profound sleep deprivation to produce a drowsy kind of happiness as he went downstairs to get his breakfast. A happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

 

 


End file.
